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THE 


BUCCANEEK8. 


A HISTOEIOAL iJOVEL 

OF THE TIMES OF 

WILLIAM III. AND LOUIS XIV. 



5 ^ 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by 
THE AUTHORS’ PUBLISHING COMPANY, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 



O 




/ 


CONTENTS 


i 


PROLOGUE. 

PAGE. 

Four Old Men in History 7 

CHAPTER I. 

Maryland under the Stuarts 19 

CHAPTER II. 

The Ancient City of St. Mary’s 35 

CHAPTER HI. 

A State Dinner 48 

CHAPTER lY. 

Cutting out Work G9 

CHAPTER Y. 

Cape Henry 77 

CHAPTER YI. 

Abdallah Legoffe 85 

CHAPTER YH. 

The Ship on the Rocks 97 

CHAPTER YIH. 

The Rescue 102 

CHAPTER IX. 

The Count’s Daughter 107 

CHAPTER X. 

Hampton House 113 

CHAPTER XI. 

The Beautiful Nurse 118 

(iii) 


iv. CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

CHAPTER XII. 

Convalescence 125 

CHAPTER XHL 

Revelations and Temptations 134 

CHAPTER XIY. 

Havana 138 

CHAPTER XV. 

The Letter 143 

CHAPTER XVL 

The Cape Cabral 148 

CHAPTER XVII. 

The Disclosure 155 

CHAPTER XVHI. 

The Bribe 163 

CHAPTER XIX. 

The Arrest I7l 

CHAPTER XX. 

Fort St. Philip 180 

CHAPTER XXI. 

An Accommodating Jailor 184 

CHAPTER XXII. 

The Snare 195 

CHAPTER XXIH. 

Fifth of August, 1689, in Saint Mary’s 214 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

The Promised Land 227 

CHAPTER XXV. 

The Five Hundred 233 

CHAPTER XX VI. 

Beau Laurent 240 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

Grey Beard 250 


CONTENTS. • V. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. i'age. 

Xativa del Roco 258 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

Gourd Head. 272 

CHAPTER XXX. 

The Lancers [ 278 

CHAPTER XXXr. 

At the Foot of Mount Pithon 286 

CHAPTER XXXH. 

The Duel 291 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

The Spa^ 298 

CHAPTER XXXIY. 

The Embarkation 9 313 

CHAPTER XXXY. 

A Revelation 319 

CHAPTER XXXYI. 

A Daring Project 324 

CHAPTER XXX YII. 

Passion and Innocence 332 

CHAPTER XXXYHI. 

The Assault 338 . 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

The Rivals 350 

CHAPTER XL. 

A Heroic Defence 364 

CHAPTER XLI. 

Thr IIoltt Sacrament 371 

CHAPTER XLII. 

The DecolVed 378 

CHAPTER XLIII. 

Le Reveil 398 


vi. ' CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XLIV. 

The Galleons 403 

CHAPTER XLV. 

The Battle at Sea 413 

CHAPTER XLVI. 

The Good Angel 421 

CHAPTER XLVII. 

Jetsam and Flotsam 429 

CHAPTER XLVIII. 

Timely Aid 446 

CHAPTER XLIX. 

The Gkotto 453 

CHAPTER L. 

The Asylum .• 460 

CHAPTER LI. 

The Consultation 471 

» CHAPTER LII. 

The Agony 478 

CHAPTER LIII. 

The Flight 485 

CHAPTER LIY. 

Au Revoik 491 

CHAPTER LV. 

The Savannah 500 

CHAPTER LYI. 

The Boucan 508 

CHAPTER LYII. 

The Fugitives 517 

CHAPTER LYIII. 

The Postscript 1 529 

CHAPTER TJX. 

Another Apostille 536 


PROLOGUE. 


FOUR OLD MEN IN HISTORY. 

On the 10th day of October, 1588, an old man sat writing 
at a table in a ceU, in the palace of the Escurial, in Spain. 

This apartment was the cell of a recluse — so far as silence, 
groined arches, dimmed and softened light of lanciform 
windows, bare stone walls, crucifixes, paintings of the glori- 
fied martyrs, sublime in their death over mortal agony, .the 
ponderous foho tomes of civil and ecclesiastical history 
bound in vellum, with bright silver clasps, arranged in 
niches with studious precision, the monkish-looking habit 
of black the occupant wore, and that old man himself, could 
make such an apartment — situated at one end of a long, 
vaulted corridor below the surface of the ground. 

The only article of luxury in the cell was the carpet, and 
that so thick and soft that the hoofs of a squadron of cav- 
alry charging over it would have been as noiseless as though 
they beat the air. All tilings in that cell were prepared for 
silence and work — the silent work of that old man, as he sat 
writing at that table — who governed forty milhons of sub- 
jects with that pen and that brain. 

His hair was as white as sixty years of mental toil, and the 
cares of a monarchy, which ruled one-fourth of the habita- 
ble globe, could make it. 

His back was as deeply bent as forty years of stooping 
over that table could bend it. 

But the eye with which Philip II., of Spain, gazed 
upon the world within and without that ceU was young — 

(^vii) 


vm 


PROLOGUE. 


such eyes never grow old ; the eyes of enthusiasts and fana- 
tics are ever young. They are the lights of souls which 
know not time nor space. His eye was, in fact, the eye of 
Maliomet, converted, after some centuries of posthumous 
purgation, to the Catholicism of Philip II. 

The old man was dipping his pen into the inkstand when 
the door opened as noiseless as though its hinges were hung 
on air, and a middle-aged man, dressed in the same sombre 
hue of the staid and composed features of men whose offi- 
cial duties of one day are exactly like those of all other 
days, entered, and after making the customary genuflexion, 
said : 

“ Sire, remain with God.” 

The old man, without taking his eyes from the paper on 
which he Avas writing, simply raised his left hand, which 
was his silent way of returning the customary benediction 
of those of his servants who had access to his ceU. 

The entrant, unfolding a slip of paper continued, Sire, 
the armada has been defeated and dispersed in the Eng- 
lish Channel, and the few who have survived are now in 
the Bay of Biscay under the guns of Santander.” 

“Diego Mendez, my son,” said Philip, without taking his 
pyes from the paper, or his pen from the inkstand, “ there 
must be masses said for the souls of those who have perish- 
ed in this great disaster to us, pensions to their widows 
and orphans, and a te deum for the survivors. Spain for- 
gets nothing. Go with God.” 

He uttered these Avords with his lips, Avithout moving his 
lower jaw, but those lips parted sufficiently to shoAV how far 
that jaw projected beyond the upper — a conformation which 
gave his voice a peculiar, deep and sepulchral tone, like a 
man speaking froln behind a mask. 

Then the official whom he addressed as “ my son,” as was 
his custom with those of Ins domestics he trusted or sus- 
pected, made another genuflexion and withdrew hke a 
shadow. 


FOUR OLD MEN IN HISTORY. 


IX 


The old man then went on to write, what he would not 
have written at this time, these words : 

“ The armada has been defeated ; another armada must he 
equipped. Mizdheth of England still lives. Henry of Navarre, 
the Huguenot still lives. There must be two more Baltasar Ger- 
ards for us. Spain forgets nothing.” 

.He then opened two more letters which he had previously 
written, and added in an “apostille,” as his marginal notes 
were called, the same words. 

One of these letters was addressed to his nephew, Alex- 
ander Farnesse, in Flanders, another to the Spanish am- 
bassador, Mendoza, at Paris, and the third to the embassy 
at Home, and after sealing them carefully, laid them aside 
on the table. 

Before resuming his work he commenced rubbing Ihs 
cramped hand as if to restore the circulation, uttering at the 
same time in that same sepulchral voice these words to 
himself : 

“ Ah, these English corsairs and Dutch boors and here- 
tics, all have given me a great deal of trouble within the 
last five years, and ^vill give me a great deal more unless 
this sixteenth century is more fruitful of such men as Bal- 
tasar Gerard ; for the service of Almighty God leaves me no 
other alternative. In this, at least, assassination is not murder, 
and treachery is not crim^. Spain must forget nothing. 
For one century the second empire of Christian Caesars has 
been advancing, never receding, over the highway of a 
Spanish ocean. 

“From the granite joillars of Hercules to the golden sands 
of the New World it has risen with the morning sun to the 
peaks of the Andes,, and it has gone down with the same, 
over the slopes of the Cordilleras, and with it the cross of 
Constantine, the first Christian Caesar, glittering in the rays 
of the sun as the waves of the Pacific fall upon their rocky 
base, with the wild music of an ocean hymn. 

“ Shall heretics and apostate nations snatch old ocean’s 


X 


PROLOGUE. 


diadem from Spain’s historic brow ? No, never ; while 
Spanish gold can buy human blood.” 

Then Philij) II. arose from his seat and straighten- 
ed his crooked spine, and in the effort experienced a 
sharp pain darting across his loins, reminding this Christian 
Caesar who had just converted the Atlantic ocean into a 
Spanish lake, and added a continent to the second empire 
of the Christian Caesars, that he was but a man — an infirm 
old man ; then, as if regretful of the few seconds lost in 
uttering unwritten words, resumed his pen with the alacrity 
of a belated clerk. Thus that old man went on writing 
from day to day, until the day came when he was found 
dead at his table — his pen had just traced the words : 

“ Spain forgets nothing.” 

***** 

On the 10th of October, 1688, just one hundred years 
after Philip II. had written his last words, another old man, 
dressed precisely in the same style, was sitting in that same 
cell of the Escorial. • 

But this old man neither wrote letters or read books. He 
looked to be seventy years old when he was but fifty-five, 
his eyes dull and sleepy, his cheeks hung flabby and loose, 
and his lips when he spoke twitched like a galvanized, corpse. 
Precocious vices had brought on premature old age, and 
Charles II. of Spain was effete^ when temperate men are in 
the fidl bloom of mental and physical vigor. 

Although the husband of several wives, he was childless, 
father only to what is known in history as the “ wars of the 
Spanish succession.” 

At this time the courts of four European nationalities were 
impatiently waiting for the last breath of this imbecile mon- 
arch, with eager hand to clutch the golden apple of discord. 

The door of that cell opened just as it did one hundred 
years before, and Charles II. was greeted by an official as 
Philip was, but Charles returned the salutation simply by 
an inchnation of his head, like a drowsy man nodding. 


FOUR OLD MEN IN HISTORY. 


XI 


“ Sire/’ said tlie official, “ the fleet of Admiral Count 
Zaralva has returned to the harbor of Cadiz.” 

“ The fleet — of Admiral — Count Zaralva has returned to 
the harbor of Cadiz ! ” said the King, with a puzzled air, 
“ what does all that mean ? ” 

“ Sire,” replied the official, a fleet of flfty merchantmen 
convoyed by Zaralva’s squadron, left Cadiz ten days ago for 
Carthagena, and they have returned to the shelter of the 
forts of Cadiz harbor.” 

“Why so?” said the King. 

“Sire? they were attacked by a Buccaneer clipper off the 
Bay of Biscay.” 

“ What does the Admiral ?” said the king. 

“ Sire, he was killed and his ship taken. It was during 
the engagement between the Buccaneer and the Admiral, 
that the remainder of the fleet made their escape.” 

“ 3Iade their escape?’' said the king bitterly, now com- 
prehending the extent of the information. ‘A Spanish 
fleet, commanded by a grandee of Spain, making their 
escape from a pirate with one ship, at a time like this, 
when the broom of Holland no longer sweeps the high 
seas, and the English and French cruisers have as much as 
they can do to protect their coasts from each other. We 
must now at last appeal to a greater power, that has never 
yet failed. Spain is gorged with gold, and gold is power ; 
for gold the disciple betrayed his master ; for gold pirates 
will sell their chief — gold can unlock the doors of the sacred 
college, and the keys of Saint Peter are gold. 

“ Let instructions be sent to our Legations to offer one 
million of dollars for every Buccaneer chief ; and then a spe- 
cial embassy must go to Borne with gold — gold — ^we want a 
bull of excommunication against all Christian princes who 
allow the Buccaneer rovers to enter their ports, or have 
any politibal or commercial intercourse with them, and 
especially against those piinces who refuse or neglect to aid 
in the destruction of these pirates of the Antilles. Tell our 


PROLOGUE. 


xii 

agents that they must spend a plenty of gold and spill a 
plenty of blood. Spam forgets nothing. Go with God.” 

Spain had indeed forgotten nothing; she had learned 
nothing ; she had not forgotten the last words of Philip II. 
which had in the course of one century cost her the suprem- 
acy of the ocean, and made the soil of the empire of the 
Christian Caesars a locality of past events. She had not 
learned that political institutions change as ideas expand. 

* ^ * 

On the 10th of November, 1688, just one month later, 
another old man sat in another ceU in another palace and 
in another city, but the roof of this ceh was a concave, fifty 
-feet above the floor, and on that concave was the grand fresr 
coe painting of the transfiguration. 

That vaulted roof rested upon marble walls and pilasters 
dazzling in their polished whiteness. Between these pilas- 
ters alternating with lofty gothic stained glass windows, 
were the life size statues of the twelve apostles. 

The face of that old man was mild and intelligent ; his 
hair thin and white. He wore a white flannel cassock which 
entirely covered him from his neck to his feet, confined 
to his waist by a broad belt of white silk webbing, from 
whick hung a gold rosary. His feet were encased in white 
satin slippers ; on the instep of each there glittered a small 
gold cross. He sat at a round table covered with mother of 
pearl — on it lay a foho breviary, bound in vellum with silver 
clasps. 

The door of that cell opened on its huge silver hinges as 
a cloud floated by a zephyr, and there entered as silently a 
man of towering and commanding statue, wearing a black 
cassock confined at the waist by a belt of black webbing 
from which was suspended an ebony rosary, and his head 
was covered by a cowl, which formed a part of his cassock. 

After making the customary genuflexion the man threw 
back his cowl displaying the large closely chpped head. 


FOUR OLD MEN IN HISTORY. 


xiii 

long thin face, long beaked nose and deeply sunken eye of 
Father Lainez, the General of the Jesuits. 

In his hand he held the bull of excommunication, 
signed that morning by His Hohness Pope Innocent XL, 
against the Buccaneers of the Antilles and aU Christian 
powers who either aided them or refused to destroy them. 
That bull had raised a singular commotion at the French 
legation and among the Jesuits, for reasons knt)wn to them- 
selves only. It had not yet passed the Cardinal Secretary of 
State’s office, and Father Lainez was the first to make a per- 
sonal appeal to the Holy Father against its further publica- 
tion. “Holy Father,” said the general of the order of 
Jesuits, “ the Buccaneers of the Antilles have become a 
power.” 

“ So has Satan and his angels,” was the rejply. 

“ Holy Father, the Buccaneers may become icseful allies of 
the church f said Father Lainez. 

' “ They must first become Christians,” he replied. 

“ Holy Father, the Buccaneers are neither heretics, schismat- 
ics or apostates.” 

“ But they have plundered our churches, desecrated our 
altars, murdered our children, and trampled on the cross of 
our Lord Jesus Christ.” 

“ As robbers, Holy Father, but not as sectaries. This bull 
is one century too soon for the temporal policy of the 
church militant,” said the general of the Jesuits. 

“My kingdom is not of this world sayeth our Lord Jesus 
Christ,” replied the Holy Father with a very significant wave 
of his left hand. 

The general of the Jesuits scovded — then cowled — then 
crossed himself, and with another genuflexion withdrew 
from the presence of - Innocent XI. But as he was passing 
along the grand gallery of. the Vatican, he met a man wear- 
ing a broad brimmed scarlet hat, scarlet stockings and red 
leather slippers, looking exactly as his great grandfather 
Caesar Borgia would have looked in a cardinal’s uniform. 


XIV 


PROLOGUE 


The man in scarlet gently touched the man in black on 
the shoulder, saying, “ Did your reverence find the Holy 
Father well and happy this morning?” 

“ No, your Eminence,” said the Jesuit from the depths of 
his cowl, “ on the contrary, I found the Holy Father ex- 
tremely low.’^ 

“What is the malady?” said the Cardinal Ottoboni (soon 
after Pope Alexander VHI. 

“ The malady, your Eminence,” replied the Jesuit, “began 
with mollities cordis;' it has fatally terminated in mpllities 
cerebrum” 

“How long will the Holy Father suffer?” said the 
Cardinal. 

“ Not long, your Eminence.” 

“We have seven vacancies in the Sacred College,” said 
the Cardinal. 

“ Let them be fiUed immediately,” rephed the Jesuit. 

“ Whence shall we take them ?” 

“ From anywhere but Spain.” 

Cardinal Ottoboni shrugged his shoulders and the General 
of the Jesuits passed on. 

Hi * * * * 

On the 31st of December, 1688, another old man was sit- 
ting in one of the magnificently furnished saloons of the 
the Palace of Saint Germain — such only as the munificence 
of Louis XIV. could furnish for the comfort of a fallen 
\)rother, king and exile. 

This old man had just lost a crown and kingdom on the 
north side of the British Channel, and had just come to 
Saint Germain to ask his royal brother, Louis of France, for 
aid to get them back again. 

And Louis XIV. had undertaken to restore James II. to 
the throne of his ancestors with aU the zeal and energy con- 
sonant with his peculiar sympathy for fallen absolutism, and 
the imperative necessity which the pohtical combinations of 
Europe required of him. 


FOUR OLD MEN IN HISTORY. 


XV 


Two others sat with him. One was a thin, middle-aged 
inan, with wafer-hke hps, a sleepy, gray eye and a pug nose. 
This was Count Melfort, commonly called in Enghsh history, 
Melfort the Apostate. The other was a fair, smooth-faced, 
long flaxen ringletted youth, whose resemblance to Lady 
Castlemaine, proclaimed him at once to be the King’s 
natural son, the Duke of Berwick. 

They were aU three seated at a table looking over a large 
map. 

The old man, who was seated between the two others, was 
dressed in a brown velvet coat, cut according to the fashions 
of those times. On his head he wore a flowing black, horse- 
tail wig ; around his neck a stiff, white cravat, partly con- 
cealed by the creases of his flabby cheeks. He wore short 
breeches, and long silk stockings, the color corresponding 
with the coat and gold shoe-buckles, set with brilliants on 
his shoes. 

Melfort was dressed in a similar style, but the color of his 
clothes was black ; with the zeal of a convert, he wore a 
large gold cross. 

Berwick rejoiced in the more brilliant scarlet ; he was 
chief of King James’ personal staff, and bore a military com- 
mission. 

The max3 represented the Enghsh-American colonies on 
the Atlantic coast. 

“ Here,” said the old man, putting his finger on a certain 
spot on the face pf the maj), “ must be the centre, the radi- 
ating point of our transatlantic operations, civil and military. 
This port is about sixty miles from the Atlantic coast, while 
its water communications with it are truly oceanic. The 
harbor of this port is large enough and deep enough to float 
the whole navy of England, and so protected by its terrain 
configuration that a skiff could ride out a tempest in it. It 
is the port of Saint Mary’s, the capital of colonial Maryland; 
the colonial pet of my father and mother, as you may 
infer from the name — Terrse Marise anghcised. Its historical 


XVI 


PROLOGUE. 


antecedents are unique and peculiar. It has ever been the 
most favored of our Atlantic ports by the Buccaneers, whose 
taste in such matters none can dispute. It was for some lit- 
tle commercial favors conferred by my father, brother 
Charles and ourself, on these men of one virtue and a 
thousand crimes, that the House of Stuart has been so long 
and deeply cursed by the Puritan writers and demagogues 
of the Geneva school ; but in the providence of God, the 
bread we cast upon the waters will now be returned to us 
four-fold. . These men are devoted to us. We will bless their 
swords and give them a name, as Odin did by the Longi- 
bardi. We will recognize them as a power; welcome them 
into the family of nations. They will be our privateers and 
bring us gold — gold, to feed and clothe our soldiers — gold to 
buy those Judases who will sell one king for one price and 
betray another for two — gold that will enter the chamber, 
the closet of royalty, the senate, the forum, the church— gold, 
the mammon, the prince of this world. But enough of this. 
I was wandering' from the spot to which I would call your 
attention. 

‘T was once there — at St. Mary’s — when on a maritime tour, 
as High Admiral of England, and if the malcontents of our 
realm had let us alone ten years longer — until the Prince of 
Wales could have assumed the burdens of government — I 
think I should have abdicated my crown of thorns and have 
gone to live with those Jesuit fathers, who have a mission there, 
at the mouth of the Saint Mary’s river, where I could at 
least have said my prayers in peace. But God’s will be done. 
Kings have their own work to do, and their own souls to save.” 

Here the old man brushed a tear from his eye, and com- 
menced rolling up the map. 

^ ^ ^ 

That port of Saint Mary’s which his Majesty — or as the 
verdict of history has it, his ex-Majesty — -James II. of Eng- 
land, had just designated as the central and radiating point 
of certain civil and military operations, which he and his 


FOUR OLD MEN IN HISTORY. 


XMl 


companions had been discussing, thereby becomes the ini- 
tial pomt historically, and the opening scene of these annals 
of an association hitherto banned and outlawed, but now 
about to become a political power which, in the brief period 
of its existence, taught its contemporaneous allies in two 
years what Philip 11., of Spain, had not learned in a cen- 
tury — that an Empire of human power, based on gold, blood 
and crime is one of the most transitory delusions of hu- 
man error. 

We must, therefore, relate the colonial antecedents, and 
describe the geographical position of this good city of old 
colony times with as little prolixity as our means will allow. 

At the time when the events of these annals were trans- 
piring, the maritime world presented a spectacle peculiar to 
that era, and unprecedented 'in human history. 

Holland had ceased to sweep her commercial rivals from 
the high seas. 

England was not yet queen of the ocean. 

The Atlantic ocean was still a Spanish sea. 

More than one half of the New World, with its numerous 
flourishing cities, and seaports, was tributary to the 
crown of Spain. More than ten milhons of submissive In- 
dians toiled in the mines and pearl fisheries of South Ameri- 
ca and the West Indies, pouring showers of "barbaric gold 
and precious stones into the Spanish treasury at Madrid. 

In each of those seaports there lay fleets of Spanish gal- 
leons for months at a time, loaded to their bends with in- 
gots of gold and silver, and casks of pearls and precious 
stones, swinging listlessly to their anchors, not daring to go 
beyond the range of their port batteries without the convoy 
of an armed fleet. 

Spain — proud and haughty Spain — the second Empire of 
the Christian Csesars, trembled at the very name of certain 
pirates who called themselves “Buccaneers,” a flock of Car- 
ribean sea vultures, who had perched upon the rock of Tor- 
tuga, and grasped in their clutches, the heart of Spain — ^her 


xviii 


PROLOGUE. 


gold — as her maritime caravans journeyed across the ocean. 

It is from the history of that extraordinary struggle be- 
tween Spain and the Buccaneers of the Antilles, as well as 
certain cotemporaneous pohtical combinations, we have com- 
piled this narrative of “ Buccaneer Annals in the days of 
Wilham IH. and Louis XIV.” 


THE BTJCCANEERS, 


CHAPTER I. 

MARYLAND UNDER THE STUARTS. 

The annals of Saint Mary’s, the capital of Maryland, under 
the Stuarts, may be divided in four distinct historic periods 
which, however, characteristic in themselves, all tend to 
show that the dissolution of the proprietary charter, consti- 
tuting and establishing a feudal principality between the 
king and the subject, the executive and the people, was 
but the inevitable result of what history teaches, and the 
common experience of mankind proves to be the fixed fact, 
the law of pohtical science in the progress and development 
of nationalities, the silent evolution of a law of destiny for 
the human race. 

The first period from the settlement at Saint Mary’s in 
1634, to the usurpation of Cromwell in 1650, includes the 
general colonial pohcy, municipal regulations and legislative 
acts which distinguished the administration of Leonard 
Calvert, the pioneer governor, the struggle with Clayborne 
for the possession of Kent Island, and closes with the rebel- 
lions, civil wars, and sectarian persecutions which marked 
the rise, progress and final ascendency of the puritan party 
in the province. 

The second period, from the usurpation of Cromwell in 
1650 to the restoration of Charles 11., in 1660, opens 
with the reduction of the province by the parhamentary 
commissioners, the suppression of the Catholic worship, the 
disfranchisement of its sectaries, and closes with the bitter 

(19) 


20 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


anti-papal statutes of a fierce and intolerant sectarian legis- 
lature. 

The third period from the restoration of Charles 11., 1660, 
to the accession of William and Mary in 1689, embracing 
the reigns of Charles 11. and James II., contains a history 
of piracy and smuggling, its baneful effects upon the com- 
mercial prosperity of the colony; FendaU’s insurrection, trial 
and banishment ; the restrictive acts of parliament upon 
colonial exports ; the state of morals, and the boundary dis- 
pute between William Penn and Lord Baltimore. 

The fourth period from the accession of William and 
Mary in 1689, to the removal of the colonial capital from 
Saint Mary’s to Annapolis in 1694, embraces the Protestant 
revolution of 1689, the fall of the proprietary government, 
the administration of the first Boyal Governor, Sir Lyonel 
Copley, the estabhshment of the Church of England by law 
in the province, the second disfranchisement of the Catholic 
population, change of the system of laws, the co-operation 
of the Catholic gentry with the French and Buccaneers to 
restore James II., its detection and defeat, the suppression 
and dispersion of the Buccaneers, and closes with the final 
consohdation of King William’s authority in the temporal 
and ecclesiastical policies of the Enghsh colonies of America. 

It is from the materials of this fourth period that we have 
endeavored to collect the dry bones of traditionary history, 
to give them articidate and muscular life, to breathe the 
thoughts, opinions and feelings of that generation of men of 
“old colony times” of Maryland, who, in their day and 
generation, revolutionized the political, and changed the 
civil and ecclesiastical, pohty of the province. 

The social history of that generation of men by whom 
great pohtical changes in a country are effected, must ever 
create a singular interest in the minds of their descendants ; 
but when that revolution is the starting point of a great 
principle of political action by which the destinies of unborn 
nationalities are to be controlled, and the fate of milhons 


MABYLANB UNDER TEE STUARTS. 21 

ameliorated, its memories come down to us filled with the 
solemn grandeur of a sacred era in the world’s history. 

The annals of Saint Mar3’'’s, however, overshadowed by 
the cotemporaneous history of the Fatherland, present all 
the glowing incidents which constitute the romance of his- 
tory, all the martial virtues which give poetic inspiration to 
the deeds of a heroic age, all the unbridled passions which 
darken human records with their crimes. 

Upon the historical panorama, in characteristic light and 
shade, typical embodiments of principles, passions and pow^ 
ers, we behold the life-enduring and life-sacrificing devotion 
of Leonard Calvert, the persevering energy and blasted am- 
bition of Clayborne, the sublime despair of the Indian war- 
rior, as he turned his face toward the settmg sun, the haughty 
sorrow of the persecuted Catholic, the silent martyr to the 
political blunders of his king, the grim, stern, unfaltering 
Fendall, the turbulent and seditious Coade — the Rienzi of 
Maryland, who first upon the plains of Saint Mary’s taught 
“ that insurrection is the sacred duty of man,” words which 
one century later deluged France with the noblest blood of 
Europe — the bold Buccaneer, the ocean’s darling and the 
ocean’s curse, grand in his one virtue and thousand crimes, 
the stealthy and astute smuggler, the subhmated fanatic, 
with all the events, passions and interests of which they are 
the agents and exponents— all pass in review upon the glow- 
ing canvass, and then comes the final struggle of antagonistic 
creeds and ' dynasties with which the seventeenth century 
closes upon the world. 

It had come to pass that in the days of 1689, William and 
Mary ascended the throne of England ; a great political 
revolution had been consummated, the organic laws of a 
realm had been changed; a representative parliament of the 
people, after a struggle of five centuries, had become the 
supreme power in the land of the Anglo-Saxon. 

An era in the annals of mankind had been opened, in 
which a new principle of government had acquired the as- 


22 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


cendency to begin its course of empire; to run its race 
tlirougli a series of triumpli and disaster, of sorrow and 
crime for generations and ages to come. New ideas of ec- 
clesiastical polity were incorporated into the constitution 
of a nation for the future weal or woe of its unborn millions. 
The powers and principalities of earth had drawn the sword 
of sectarian warfare in the sixteenth century, and the map of 
Europe was their battlefield. The torch of the “ Reforma- 
tion ” had kindled the war between two ideas called “ hberty 
and absolutism,” and the Christian world was in a blaze. 

Marshaling the forces and controlling the operations of 
this war of opinions, there appeared in these days of 1689, 
two embodiments of the beUigerent powers — "William IIE,, 
of England, and Lous XIV., of France — governed by the 
antagonistic principles of action which drove their people to 
arms. 

The one to sustain the spiritual infallibility of an elder 
creed, for wliich martyrs of early days had died, and in 
which so many holy men had lived ; the other to mamtain 
the rights of men in a simpler faith and later creed, which, 
in its turn, presented a long calendar of martyrs, sealing 
with their blood and ashes the faith in which they lived. 

The one with the ambition of Ctesar, the craft of Macchia- 
velli, the grace of Antinous, the effeminacy of Sardana- 
palus, made rehgion the pretext to grasp the crown of 
Charlemagne. With the other, the zeal of an antagonistic 
creed was the inspiration of a stem, unbending will, an in- 
flexible purpose, an unfaltering policy. 

Never had the gorgeous worship of Rome so magnificent 
a champion as the eldest son of her ancient faith. Never 
did the Reformation rally around its standard a captain of 
such consummate ability as the monarch of England. Both 
were served by the apostate intellects and the prostituted 
faculties of all that were eminent among men; both were 
sustained by the most ardent devotion; both betrayed by 
the darkest treason. 


MARYLAND UNDER THE STUARTS, 


23 


Never since tlie day when Zenobia, queen of the East, 
graced the triumph of Aurelian, was human power more 
deified, than when imperial thrones, mighty princes and 
illustrious warriors did homage to the successor of Saint 
Louis at Versailles. 

Never since the day when AttiUa crossed the Danube, and 
marshaled his mighty host upon the plains of Ravenna, was 
the majesty of Rome more terribly menaced, than when 
England’s stern and pensive king ralHed all the elements of 
unfettered thought to disarm the Vatican of its thunder, and 
hurl the successor of Saint Peter from the spiritual throne 
of the Christian world. 

As distinct were they in moral characteristics as in politi- 
cal policy and religious faith. 

With one, the most solemn treaties were but as halts m 
the march of an invading army to dominion and power. 
With the other, the “word of the king” was as the judg- 
ment of God, and so far as human agency was concerned, 
as unalterable as the fiat of destiny itself. As strongly con- 
trasted was the personnel of these two rival potentates. The 
one, with all the imperial majesty of Augustus Caesar, won 
the love of women by the classical beauty of Constantine, 
the admiration of men by the scholastic graces of Julian, 
and fascinated the most polished of luxurious courts by the 
wit of Nerva. The other cold and silent was as unsocial in 
his manner, as his features were harsh and repulsive; that 
dread intensity of feeling which maddens men, rendered 
him as grand as he was gloomy in his isolation. 

The magnificent king of “ beautiful France” bequeathed 
to his subjects and to his successors the retributive reaction 
of centuries of home misrule, which in after years required 
aU the horrors of the “ French Revolution,” the most awful 
political convulsion ever recorded in history, to eradicate it. 

The other bequeathed to his countrymen the grand idea 
of constitutional hberty, the most glorious heritage of the 
Anglo-Saxon race. 


24 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


The waves of the Atlantic bore conflicting passions and 
interests from the old world to the new, to darken the 
struggle of creeds and races with all the horrors of Indian 
barbarity. 

From the mouth of the St. Lawrence, along the lakes to 
its source, from the crystal lake, lying in the shadow of 
dark mountains, pouring its waters through the rocky gorge 
to feed the Mississippi, with the same to its embouchure 
into the Gulf of Mexico, the genius of La Salle was laying 
the foundation of a French empire in the New World to 
realize the dream of Richeheu; but doomed to be nought but 
a dream. 

French enterprise was connecting the valley of the Ohio 
with the valley of the Potomac. French policy was putting 
into requisition all the material means of human strife to 
blot England from the maj) of America. Bitter sectarian 
strife embittered the hearts of the Enghsh colonists, while 
their blood flowed like water upon their frontiers in battle 
against French aggression, Jacobite treason and Indian 
treachery. 

In these days a generation of men were living in the 
province of Maryland who had heard the Covenanter’s 
battle chant in old England, who had seen the last act of 
the ‘‘Great Rebellion,” that deadly struggle between the 
“prerogative” of a crown and the rights of the subject, 
which brought the first Charles to the scaffold, the tempo- 
rary ascendancy of the stern military fanaticism of a Crom- 
well, the social reaction of a restoration of the Stuarts in the 
person of Charles II., and finally the great “ deliverance ” of 
1688, which drove the second James from the throne of his 
ancestors, and estabhshed the supremacy of an elective par- 
liament upon the ruins of royal hereditary right. 

Men were then living in the colony who had reared the 
first legislative hall, in which the doctrine of civil and relig- 
ious liberty — the rights oi man — were first taught and prac- 
ticed, whose hands had felled the first trees of that primeval 


MARYLAND UNDER THE STUARTS. 


25 


forest of an antedeluvian continent ; wliose voice as it waved 
in tlie wind, was like the roar of the ocean, and whose shade 
was like the night upon the face of the world. 

A generation of men were passing away, but not gone, 
who, with minds subhmated by that deep intensity of feel- 
ing which a war of interests, passions, dynasties and creeds 
always produces among men, had borne their part for good 
or ill in a struggle between a feudal proprietary, and bold 
aspiring yoemanry, which resulted in the establishment of a 
principle, the basis of a political system wliich, in the pro- 
cess of time and course of events, developed into maturity 
the grand problem of free government, and who had under- 
gone the mystic transformation of men born Avith all the 
prejudices inherited from a monarchy of five centuries dura- 
tion, becoming in the four-score years allotted to the life of 
man, a revolutionary democracy which, in the lapse of years 
and succeeding generations consummated the American 
Bevolution of 1776, the most sublime event in the political 
history of the human race. A change so extraordinary in so 
short a time can only be attributed to that progression of 
ideas expanded into the moral sublime, upon beholding in 
the New World nature cast in her most gigantic propor- 
tions, quickened by the fact that each and all found them- 
selves proprietors of the' soil limited in quantity only by 
their means of occupation and cultivation, which alone was 
sufficient to inspire men born amid the ci’OAvded populations 
of Europe, under all the hereditary disabilities of castes and 
the feudal system, Avith that species of that moral and indi- 
vidual independence Avhich a sovereignty in the soil ever con- 
fers upon those Avho till it. 

How loAvly soever in birth or station or humble in cir- 
cumstances a man may be, inspire him Avith some ennobling 
principle of action, some aspiration beyond the incessant 
and daily struggle for food and raiment, some hope above 
the temporary exigencies of the present, you make him a 
nobleman, endoAved Avith the lofty graces of manhood ; you 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


26 

ma,kc liim a citizen capable of meeting all tlie questions of 
self-government. Let liim feel that his life is an unwritten 
history, to react for good or for evil upon those around and 
after him, that his acts and his opinions will be indirectly 
reflected in the legislative history of his country, you make 
him a “ sovereign lord ” in creation. 

History— that superficial log-book which chronicles the 
storms that agitate the surface, and the waifs that indicate 
the winds and the currents of the great ocean of human 
life— tells us in a few words that the province of Maryland 
was colonized under the tenor and import of a charter, 
granted by his majesty Charles I. to Cecilius Calvert, Lord 
Baron of Baltimore, in 1632; that its capital. Saint Mary s, 
was located on the banks of the Saint Mary’s river in 1634, 
by Leonard Calvert, the brother of the “Lord Proprietor,” 
and pioneer governor of Maryland. That the act for its 
transfer to the banks of the Severn was passed in 1692, dur- 
ing the administration of Sir Lyonel Copley, the first govemdr 
appointed by the crown on the demise of the proprietary 
charter, after the English revolution of 1688, and that the 
transfer of said capital to Annapolis was consummated by 
Sir Francis Nicholson in 1694. That the sixty years wliich 
intervened between the founding of the capital on the banks 
of the Saint Mary’s, and its removal to the Severn, was 
marked in the province by the same struggles for political 
power and sectarian ascendency, which constitutes the same 
period of time in the Old World, with its grander events 
— the most important epoch in England’s history — ^that for 
the “ Great Bebellion,” which defeated, detluoned and be- 
headed the maidyred successor of a long line of kings. We 
have the insurrection of Clayborne, wliich drove the pro- 
prietary governor a fugitive from his capita,!. The usurpa- 
tion of Cromwell was reflected in the administration of Fen- 
dall. The restoration of the second Charles was followed 
by the restitution of the proprietary government of Mary- 
land to the second Lord of Baltunore. And, finally, the 


MARYLAND UNDER THE 8TUART8. 


27 


revolution of 1G88, which numbered the days of the Stuart 
dynasty, had its counterpart in the “ Protestant Revolution 
of 1G89 in Maryland, and the subsequent forfeiture of the 
“Proprietary Charter.” But with that meagre synopsis of 
colonial affairs in Maryland, there comes that unwritten his- 
tory of the fierce and bitter war of the passions which ever 
rages between the conquerors and the conquered, who are 
doomed to live upon the same soil, and under the same 
sky; the vindictive trium 2 fii of the dominant faction with its 
im 2 )eachments, trials, fines, forfeitures, confiscations, at- 
tainders, the dark scaffold, the bloody grave, the bitter 
hatred of the prosecuted and the fallen, as sullen in its ran- 
cor as it is impotent to avenge. 

There are moments in the history of individuals when the 
heart — as swift as the flash of thought — passes from bright 
and joyous youth to the petrified hoariijess of age. As the 
glowing concejotions of the master become fixed in the cold, 
imperishable marble, so the molten lava of blasted ambition, 
crushed affections, 2 )ersecuted faith, outraged rights, shrivels 
and withers in its fiery torrent the brightest flowers of life; 
so it cools and hardens into dark and rugged forms of fell 
revenge, as enduring as the volcanic scoria, which rolls its 
2 )etrified waves over the slumbering cities of elder time. 
These bitter wrongs, with an eternity of ill in a moment, 
come oftenest and quickest in the actions and reactions of 
revolutions and counter-revolutions of political history, em- 
bittering the heart and scaring the brow of one generation 
to leave its heritage of dark memories to all others to come. 

Of the tenor and imj^ort of the charter granted by his 
Majesty, Charles I., to Cecilius, Lord Baron, of Baltimore, 
much delusion has been practiced by the sectarian writers of 
the day. The “ civil and religious liberty ” clauses of that in- 
strument have been quoted by “ celebration” orators design- 
ing to invest Lord Baltimore with the character of amissionary 
2 :>ro 2 )agandist, Avhicli he neither sought or desired. A care- 
ful study of cotemi^oraneous colonial history, and a small 


28 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


instalment of political x)liilosopliy will very readily reduce 
tlie moral grandeur ” of the charter to the ordinary stand- 
ard of practical expediency. 

All men know, and all admit, that the primary object of 
the colonial charters issued by the European princes of that 
day Avas to colonize, populate, cultivate, and render subsid- 
iary to commerce the transatlantic possessions of the crown. 
The guarantee of civil and religious liberty in those days of 
sectarian persecution, presents more j)olitical policy than 
missionary zeal. This inference is sustained by the histori- 
cal fact that, as large a proportion of the settlers of Mary- 
land came from intolerant Avitch-burning Massachusetts and 
‘"prelatical” high church Yirginia as from old England. 

The patentee of the proprietary charter of Maryland must 
have knoAvn that the emigrants to his palatinate Avould im- 
press upon the legislative history of the province the seal of 
their political and religious opinions according to their ratio 
of representation, all of Avhich is sufficient to show that he 
looked above and beyond the establishment of a missionary 
station or an arcadia for his OAvn particular sect on the banks 
of the St. Mary’s. 

Enthusiasts, martyrs, and the like, may set at defiance all 
the maxims of Avorldly policy, to eliminate a beautiful idea, or 
consecrate a dogma of faith; but not so those temporal poAV- 
crs Avho found kingdoms, principalities, and dynasties, and 
Avho look doAvn through a vista of centuries to perpetuate a 
particular system of political polity; and in the liberal policy 
by AAdiich Lord Baltimore colonized the j^i’ovince and con- 
verted the aborigines into a friendly poAver — Avhich saved the 
infant settlements of Maryland from the terrible Indian 
Avarfare Avhich desolated all other colonial frontiers — Ave be- 
hold the sagacity of a statesman, not the zeal of a churchman. 

To have maintained a feudal principality in the middle of 
the seventeenth century in the America of the Anglo-Nor- 
man, with an ocean rolling betAveen it and the monarchical 
institutions from Avhich it derived its powers, under the most 


MARYLAND UKDER THE STUARTS. 29 

favorable circumstances, would have tasked the powers of 
human agency to the utmost. 

But to have done so when the minds of the colonists were 
convulsed by two of the fiercest passions of the human 
heart — political zeal and religious fanaticism — would have 
been to roll back the tide of human thought to its source, 
to reduce society to its primitive elements. 

The exalted character of the bright social virtues of the 
Pilgrim Fathers of Maryland, could not maintain a pohtical 
system incompatible with the progressive spirit of the age, 
quickened as it was into fearful activity by a social struggle 
of antagonistic elements. 

It is the strength of the Corinthian column that sustains 
the vaulted dome of the political temple. The fascinatingx 
virtues of social life, the fervent inspiration of cloistered 
piety, the scholastic graces of universities, give beauty but 
not durability to the arch upon which political systems rest. 

The pleasing and graceful superstitions of allegorical my- 
thology, the poetic inspiration of an idea, the beatific delu- 
sions of a vision may be commensurate with the history of 
the human race, but they maintain not uniform systems of 
government and law. The shout of “ Allah ” may exalt a 
Mahomet to the throne of a “prophet, priest and king,” 
but the star of Islam has faded from the glomng sky of the 
East, and the empire of the Saracen has been as evanescent 
as the mirage of the desert. 

A graceful blending of the gorgeous rites of Paganism 
with the sublime mysteries of the “Passion and Transfigura- 
tion,” may place the political sceptre of a Christian world 
into the hands -of a haughty and ambitious Pontiff, but the 
temporal throne of St. Peter is already mingling its crumb- 
ling grandeur with the hoary ruins of the temple of J upiter 
Capitolinus. 

It is a fixed, unchangeable law of political ethics that 
the success, the advancement, and the propagation of all 
those great principles of political and civil polity which 


80 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


tend to tlie progressive amelioration of tlie Imman race, or 
to the establishment and perpetuation of dominion and 
power among men, depend entirely upon the organized 
powers and political abilities to advance with the “ law of 
progress ” which controls the course of empire. 

The annals of aU powers, kingdoms, creeds and dynasties, 
all s^^stems of government and law which required the 
agency of human power to establish, all teach by the space 
they occupy in history, that abstract virtues in the cabinet, 
like undisciplined valor in the field, are powerless against 
the concentrated powers which the law of progress welds 
together. 

The dark pages of sorrow and crime, the fall of empires, 
the revolutions of states, the supremacy of races, the ascen- 
dency of sects, all teach that victory is to those who prac- 
tice the law of strength, the crown to the crafty, and the axe 
to the outwitted. 

That the intellectual as well as the material means must 
be adequate to the end ; that the most masterly combi- 
nations of strategy in the field, unsustained by a corre- 
sponding power of executive policy, are nothing more or 
less than those brilhant failures which mark the imbecihty 
of rulers, the decadence of states, and the dissolution of po- 
litical systems. 

Those warriors who have revolutionized nations and ruled 
mankind, those “ Bourbons ” of all ages, types and nationali- 
ties who have ruled nations to ruin succeeding generations, 
those false prophets who deluded mankind by visionary day- 
dreams, those MacchiaveUi, those Sismondi, those Gibbons, 
who have instructed mankind in their histories of “ human 
error,” all teach directly or indirectly that there must be an 
adequate combination of physical with mental power, of 
human agency with abstract principle, a conformity to a 
Zaic, that is, the law of progress dating from the creation of 
matter to end only in annihilation of the, mine . ' 

To maintain given pohtical systems aj)ace with knowledge. 


MARYLAND UNDER THE STUARTS. 


31 


“ one of the most important conclusions that men can draw 
from the study of history,” says Sismondi, “is that their 
government is the most infalhble index to the character of a 
people ; that them virtues or their vices, their energy or their 
imbecihty, their intelligence or their ignorance are never the 
effects of climate, but the work of laws; and so long as their 
pohtical system develops qualities with which they are 
endowed by God, they progress — otherwise retrograde.” 
First, by becoming stationary, then they begin to decline 
and fall from their rank as a pohtical power, then as a nation 
they disappear from the map of the world, then as a people 
they disappear from the face of the earth, and leave nothing 
beliind them but the monumental ruins of a historic age, 
that dust of empmes which lies thick and deep upon the 
bosom of the habitable globe. 

When do powers become stationary ? Wlien they cling 
tenaciously to written constitutions which have become ob- 
solete in their operations, out of time and place. 

No history proves the operation of this law and the gran- 
deur of its moral and political mission than that of the 
Anglo-Saxon. The legislative history of England in its 
entirety is the glorious struggle of freemen in defence of 
the rights of the subject against the encroachments of the 
royal prerogative. The same may be said of the colonial his- 
tory of Mar^dand. 

From the rout at Hastings to the day of “ Great Deliver- 
ance,” when James 11. fled, every act of the people of Eng- 
land through their parliament was an act of freedom. 
From the day when the “ Ark and Dove ” appeared on the 
bosom of the Saint Mary’s to the day when Philq) Calvert 
surrendered the archives of the proprietary government, 
every act of the freemen of the province was a struggle for 
light — flight for all. 

The history of old colony times tells us that in 1689 John 
Coade, at the head of seven hundred men, marched into the 
city of Saint Mary’s, proclaimed William and Mary, dis- 


32 


THE BUGCAHEERS. 


persed the j^roprietary council; that the garrisons of Folds 
Saint Mary’s and Saint Inigoes surrendered upon demand ; 
that a convention of the people was then held at Saint 
Mary’s, whose first act was to petition to the king and par- 
liament of England to annul the proprietary charter, to 
establish the common law of the realm as the organic law in 
the province, and to take the government of the same under 
the jurisdiction of the crown of England ; that the king- 
responded to this petition by sending over Sir Lyonel 
Copley as provisory governor, with plenary powers to con- 
voke a new assembly of the representatives of the people on 
a more extensive basis of the electoral franchise, which sliould 
make such changes in the political and ecclesiastical status 
of the colony as the exigencies of the case required, and 
that Avhen the acts of said assembly should receive the royal 
assent, that the said Sir Lyonel Copley should then be com- 
missioned as the royal governor of the province, provided 
the same was in accordance with the wishes of said people. 

Under these instructions the legislative assembly of Mary- 
land met at Saint Mary’s on the first Monday of October 
1690, and on that day the revolution was consummated, and 
the annals of American freedom began. 

The first act of the legislature of 1690, set forth, “ That 
as parliament is the supreme legislative power of the realm 
of England, so an assembly of the representatives of the 
freemen of Maryland hath sole jurisdiction in the internal 
affairs of the said province and this is the basis of the pop- 
ular sovereignty of our own day. 

It fired the first gun for freedom on the plains of Lexing- 
ton; it lent inspiration to the American Declaration of In- 
dependence; it nerved the arm and sharpened the sword 
of Washington; it led the pilgrims of the Revolution 
through the fiery ordeal of an unequal war to the consum- 
mation of their sublime mission. 

Dating as we do our national existence from the era of a 
later and grander revolution than that of 1689, let us not 


MARYLAND UNDER THE STUARTS. 


33 


forget tlie noble spirits of old colony times, whose brave 
hearts and stout arms taught us that the rights of the sub- 
ject is the majesty of the crown. 

Let us remember that those grim old puritans who sat 
around their council-board with their Bibles in their hands 
and answered the King’s messenger, “ thus and thus sayeth 
the Lord,” are our great political ancestors whose memory 
should endure forever, and kindle inspiration in the hearts 
of all succeeding generations of men. While we deplore 
the acts of proscription and religious intolerance which soils 
the otherwise fair page of the colonial revolutionary history 
of Maryland, we must not forget that the revolutionists 
were only following the example and practicing the lessons 
of sectaries who had become a political faction, and to whose 
intrigues most of the political crimes and national calamities 
recorded in English history, may be traced. 

The annals of American freedom may be said to begin at 
a period Alien a revolutionary king is seated on the throne 
of England, when an insurgent people, after a long strug- 
gle of centuries with absolutism, temporal and spiritual, had 
destroyed the political supremacy of an unconstitutional 
power, and disarmed the sectaries of a church which, how- 
ever sublime in history, mysterious in policy, grand in archi- 
tecture, inspired in music, inimitable in painting, now stood 
still in her teaching, in gloomy grandeur like the Pyramids, 
while humanity, like the waters of the Nile were flowing 
by, and which had for 1600 years turned its graceful super- 
stitions around the human heart, only to fetter the mind, 
stifle the aspirations, and render subsidiary to its temporal 
power all the material and intellectual organizations of the 
human race. 

Eevolutions in all periods of the world’s history, what- 
ever be their object, ever seek in their hour of triumph, as 
a fixed law of their existence, not only to destroy what had 
hitherto ojiposed their progress, but to crush the means of 
reaction. 


34 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


In tins William III. was seconded by a parliament more 
revolutionary than tlie king; by a people more loyal than 
parliament; by a cabinet more sectarian than their church ; 
and, as the long swells of the Atlantic, rollmg from the Old 
World and falling with the force and momentum of immensi- 
ty upon the New, ri23ples the Potomac, with their recoil, so 
Sir Lyonel Cojoley found in Maryland a sturdy yeomanry as 
impatient of foreign sectarian suj^remacy as they were de- 
sirous of political freedom. The feudal proprietary system 
was as quickly erased from the statute-book as its capital 
was blotted from the map of Maryland. 

Blending as our revolutionary ancestors of old colony 
times did in their own persons, the national characteristics 
of their Norman Anglo-Saxon origin, cool political sagacity, 
daring high spirited chivalry, devout enthusiasm, they be- 
queathed to us as they journeyed toward the setting sun of 
life, the brightest heritage of man. 

May their acts, like their spirits, from the darkness and 
silence of the tomb, bloom into day — bright, beautiful and 
eternal day. 


THE ANCIENT CITY OF SAINT MARTS. 


35 


CHAPTER II. 

THE ANCIENT CITY OF “ SAINT MAEy’s” 

The configuration of tlie ‘‘ Plain Of old Saint Mary’s,” as 
the plateau on which the city stood, is called, may for the 
purpose of description be campared to a right-angled trian- 
gle — rSaint Inigoes creek, the first navigable tributary of 
the Saint Mary’s river on its eastern side, forming the base 
of the triangle ; the heights of Saint Mary’s, a spur of the 
spine which bisects the county of Saint Mary's longitudinal- 
ly, forming the perpendicular, and the Saint Mary’s river 
itself forming the hypotenuse of the triangle. The reg- 
ularity of the superficial area of the jfiain is broken by nu- 
merous coves and inlets making into it from Saint Inigoes 
creek on the south. The windings, bights and curvatures 
of the Saint Mary’s river on the west give to the panorama 
of the valley its peculiar grace and beauty. 

Two creeks, Saint John’s on the north, and Brent’s creek 
on the south, fed by springs at their tide-water heads, and 
emptying into the Saint Mary’s river, bounded respectively 
in 1689, a peninsular plateau of land of about one hundred 
acres. Upon this plateau was built the city of Saint 
Mary’s, the proprietary capital of colonial Maryland. Equi- 
distant between the mouths of Saint John’s and Brent’s 
creeks (the latter is now a dry ravine, and the bed of the 
former is covered by a miU pond, communicating with the 
river by a shallow and tortuous mouth meandering through 
the sand beach) the peninsular paraUellogram thus bounded, 
projected its southwestern angle into the river, so as to di- 
vide the bed of that portion of the stream, known as the 
“Saint Mary’s beach,” into two crescent-shaped harbors. At 
this angle stood “ Fort Saint Mary’s,” which originally was 
a rude block house, erected by Leonard Calvert in 1635, 


36 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


but in the course of time, and succeeding administrations of 
the Calvert dynasty, became a regular, moated, bastioned 
and parapetted fortress, whose guns commanded all water 
approaches to the town and harbor. Landward in the rear 
of the fort stood the State House, built in the form of a 
Maltese cross, erected in 1639 by the pioneer governor, 
Leonard Calvert. At the head of the valley of Saint John’s 
creek stood the governor’s house, commonly called the 
“ Castle.” At the head of Brent’s creek was situated the 
Catholic chapel, which was closed during the anti-papal ad- 
ministration of Cromwell, and now in 1689 is in ruins. West 
of this building and equi-distant between the source and 
mouth of this creek was -'Brent’s Forge,” a patent having 
been issued by Leonard Calvert to one Giles Brent for a lot 
whereon to build a forge, which gave name to the creek. 

Still farther west, at the confluence of Brent’s creek with 
the Saint Mary’s on the north side, stood the colony print- 
ing office, a low brick building, with a huge chimney, es- 
tabhshed by the "Parliamentary Commissioners,” and from 
which was issued the Saint Maries Gazette to diffuse “ God- 
ly doctrines among the God-fearing men,” but which the 
restoration of Charles II. turned into a licentious organ pe- 
culiar to that reign. After a temporary suspension, on the 
first day of May, 1690, the Saint Maries Gazette was reis- 
sued under the auspices of the provisory governor. Sir 
Lionel Copley, and the Bev. Doctor Bray, commissary of the 
Bishop of London, the latter being sent over to look after 
the ecclesiastical affairs of the province, and brought with 
him a " broadside ” printer. 

Newspapers in those days were called " broadsides ” from 
the circumstance of their being printed on one side only. 
The Gazette issued in " Saint Maries ” on the 1st day of 
May, 1690, was, we presumui, a very quaint looking docu- 
ment compared with its democratic namesake of the qjresent 
day. 

Saint Mary’s, like all other English towns of that period. 


THE ANCIENT CITY OF SAINT MARTS. 


37 


boasted of two substantial inns, or liostelries, as they were 
called, which, like the coffee houses of London, were the 
headquarters of antagonistic political parties and religious 
sects. Following the water from the confluence of the two 
creeks along the “ beach road ” as it was called — a sand flat, 
between the waters and the foot of the bluff, on which the 
town was built — after passing the printing office you came 
to, or rather under the “ Crown and Mitre ” inn, whose 
quaint gable end seemed to beetle over the brow of the 
bluff. Continuing your course you passed under the west 
face of the fort and came to the “ quay,” a sandy, lanciform 
point, now known as “ Church Point,” and wliich nearly bi- 
sected the river channel, and at the apex of which was the 
town wharf. It was then covered with warehouses, but now 
with cedars and a pond. Passing over the basis of this 
point, at the foot of the glacis of the fort, and, filing right, 
you passed under the north face of the fort, the north side 
of the State House square, and came to another sand flat at 
the junction of Saint John’s creek with the Saint Mary’s. At 
the foot of the dechvity, now crowned by the stables be- 
longing to the Seminary, was the inn, called the “ Thistle,” 
the headquarters of the Puritan party of the province. Both 
by their titles were significant and indicative of the political 
and religious bias of the parties who patronized them. Fac- 
ing east, and following the town side of Saint John’s creek, 
you came to the public spring, a great ciystal pool, clear 
and deep, enclosed and over-arched by masonry. Passing 
on you came to a low brick house, on a knoll which was 
covered with the patriarchal holly trees. This was the home 
of Josiah Fendall, the Puritan patriarch of the province, who 
like Simeon was waiting for the “Great Deliverance,” as 
English amials style the Ee volution of 1688, “ that he might 
bless God and die.” Further on you came to the more st^d- 
ish house of the Chancellor, . situated in a grove of syca- 
mores ; and then at the head of the ravine you came to the 
“Castle,” standing in the centre of a park, with many fresh 


38 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


water springs, which fed the stream called Saint John’s 
creek. You have now made the three sides of the parallelo- 
gram on which the good city of Saint Mary’s was built. 

Within the outlines thus described, along the broad, lawn- 
like avenue which extended from the State House to the 
“ Castle, ” beneath the primeval oaks for which the English 
colonists entertained a Hruidical reverence, there clustered 
the dwellings and shops of the townspeople, and which had 
passed through the various stages of architectural transition 
from the Indian wigwam to the pioneer log hut, from the 
frame building to the substantial brick edifice, after the 
peculiar style of the times- — many of which were afterwards 
taken down and the materials transported to Annapolis. 

Saint Mary’s at this time, 1689, presented the appearance 
of one of those English villages or towns which clustered 
around the castellated mansion of the manor lord, or lay 
beneath the spire of its cathedral church, with nothing to 
indicate it as the metropolis of a province save its fori, ship- 
ping and harbor. 

The lapse of years, which witnessed the duration of Saint 
Mary’s as the capital of the province of Maryland, unlike 
the same period of time in the present day, was unfavorable 
to the gTowth of the colonial cities of the American conti- 
nent, however commanding their geographical and commer- 
cial position might have been. 

The face of the Christian world was desolated by long 
and fierce wars of powers, interests and opinions. Piracy, 
under the powerful marine organization known as “Buc- 
caneers,” not only swept commerce from the seas, but was 
about to cross the threshold of the family of nations as a 
political power, holding the keys of the Atlantic ocean. 

Smuggling, which had become the fourth estate in the 
colonies of America, defrauded , the revenues, evaded, and 
sometimes defied the laws of the land. 

Agriculture barely supported the tillers of the soil. What 
political economists call “ balance of trade,” was against the 


THE ANCIENT CITY OF SAINT MARTS. 


39 


colonies. Tobacco, the sole staple of exportation, although 
sold in London at exorbitant prices, was returned to the 
province in articles of luxury and consumption, which added 
nothing to the solid wealth of the country. The repeated 
restrictions upon colonial trade were an emphatic announce- 
ment by the people of England that the colonies existed 
only for the consumption of her manufactures. 

The production of the raw material of trade by which the 
merchants of England laid the foundations of that manufac- 
turing and commercial interest, which in the course of the 
three-score years and ten allotted to the life of man, became 
the dominant power of that realm. 

Thus the colony of Maryland, liaving within her limits the 
noblest of bays and inland seas, receiving the waters of the 
deepest of rivers, and they in their turn draining a vast 
extent of country teeming with agriculture and mineral 
wealth, remained, until the close of the American Kevolution, 
in the. same condition of undeveloped power, as the Italian 
republics of the tenth century, or the South American states 
of the i)resent day. 

The ascendancy of a political and sectarian influence in 
1G94, transferred the proprietary capital of Maryland from 
the banks of the Saint Mary’s • to the banlis of the Severn, 
under the same sublimated idea of destroying the “ moral 
prestige of hoary antecedents,” that an autocrat by the sole 
exercise of his will transferred the seat of empire from the 
banks of the Tiber to an obscure village on the Bosphoros. 

The colonial aristocracy, whose manor houses dotted the 
face of the country, disappeared with the metropolitan 
migration The town site reverted back to the manor from 
which it was taken. Builders quarried from the deserted 
brick edifices. The walls of the fort sank to a level with 
the earth, and its corroded guns which once defended the 
town and harbor, may now occasionally be seen as land 
boundaries. In 1698 the State House and square were 
given by the king to the vestry of William and Mary parish 


40 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


for a clmrcli. Tims the city of Saint Mary’s disappeared 
from the map of Maryland. 

Even the State House, that last monupient of Maryland’s 
early colonial history, in 1830 was torn down to furnish 
materials for the present unsightly and graceless church 
edifice. In 1844 one half of the State House square was 
sold to the State of Maryland for a seminary site, and the 
old patriarchal cedars under whose shade our early legisla- 
tors and governors were wont to take their intersessional 
promenades and lounges, were cut down to make scaffold- 
ing for the erection of that institution known as the “ Saint 
Mary’s Female Seminary.” 

The only surviver of “ old colony times ” is an enormous 
elm which stood at the gorge of the fort, and there it now 
stands looking down on the generations of men who have 
died and are buried beneath its shade — each typical of their 
peculiar race, creed, government and law — and if left to the 
natural progress of decay, will still stand when all men now 
living shall have passed away and their existence forgotten. 

A cursory glance at the panorama of the valley of the 
Saint Mary’s must necessarily determine the fact, that safe- 
ty, facility of defense, and the beauty of its geographical and 
commercial position induced Leonard Calvert, the pioneer 
governor, to select that locality as the site for a capital, 
which under all the ordinary circumstances that direct the 
course of trade and expand commerce, would have become 
the chief city of a rich and populous province, if not the 
commercial emporium of the Atlantic coast, connected as it 
is by the tributaries of the Chesapeake bay and the Poto- 
mac river, with a vast extent of inland country, and by the 
same waters with the outside world beyond the Atlantic 
ocean. 

The general topography of the plain of Saint Mary’s bears 
a marked resemblance on a miniature scale to the site of 
Constantinople, as it is described by Polybius before the 
Christian era. 


THE ANCIEET CITY OF SAINT MARY^S. 


41 


The Saint Mary’s river, after leaving the foot of the spine, 
which divides the sources of the tributaries of the Chesa- 
peake bay from those of the Potomac river, and sweei)ing 
around jutting headlands, which heighten the charms they par- 
tially conceal, forms the two crescent-shaped harbors, which 
may be called the “Golden Horn,” and then expanding 
into a broad estuary, sufficient to float the navy of England, 
receives the waters of Saint Inigoes creek, which like the 
sea of Marmora, washes the base of the triangle, and which 
in Europe would be called a river of no inconsiderable mag- 
nitude, and finally mingles its current with that of the Poto- 
mac to form a “ Hellespont ” with the Chesapeake bay. 

During the whole of this passage the wooded heights, 
from whose clay substratum springs its source, like the 
hills of Bythinia and Thrace, Saint George Island, at the 
confluence of the three rivers. Saint Marj^’s, Saint George, 
and Potomac, slumbering like the isle of Marmora in golden 
haze upon the bosom of “ sweet waters,” and the dim, cloud- 
like outhnes of the Virginia land, like the distant mountains 
of Asia Minor, may be seen at one and the same time. 

Bitter, therefore, must have been the sectarian strife, and 
fierce the political struggle among and between our ances- 
tors in those days, to have broken the columns of a capitol 
consecrated by the hallowed memories of the heroic age of 
the colony, graced by the natural beauties of God’s own 
handy- work, and enhanced by the prospective greatness of 
a commerce, which would have poured the treasures of 
every age and clime at its feet. 

If one were seated on the quaint old-fashioned porch of the 
“Crown and Mitre ” inn, on the last day of the last month of 
the last year of the reign of the last Stuart, James II., in the 
beginning of the transition period of the English revolution 
of lG88,when coming events are foreshadowing the ephemeral 
supremacy of a “Committee of Public Safety” in the province; 
the accession of our Sovereign Lord and Lady, William and 
Mary of England; the administration of Sir Lyonel Copley, 


42 


THE BUCCAJs^EERS. 


wliom our Lord and Lady sent over to the province as their 
vice-gerent in matters civil and ecclesiastical, and — ^reviewing 
the passing events, as they occurred in the goodly city of 
Saint Mary’s, during the few remaining years of its metropoli- 
tan existance — one will see during the afternoon of that 31st 
day of December, 1G88, groups of eager men hurrying toward 
the avenue; but instead of entering the State House square, 
the direction of the avenue, they turn abmptly to the left 
and descend a sunken road to the beach, and thence to the 
“quay.” These groups of men are costumed differently 
from the bucolics and agricolics of the present day, who travel 
that road to Saint Maiw’s church. 

They wear broad leafed felt hats, with one side looped up 
to the crown by a brilliant button, velvet coats, with long 
voluminous skirts, wide sleeves, metallic buttons as large as a 
Spanish dollar, short breeches, long stockings with hold or 
silver knee and shoe buckles. Many wear swords, but all 
carry enormous gold or silver headed canes. 

A few moments ago an old-fashioned, smooth bore can- 
non was heard booming down in the mouth of the Saint 
Mary’s river. It was c^uickly and shariffy answered by 
another old-fashioned casemate gun from Fort Saint Mary’s; 
and soon a long, triangular flag was run up the ffag- staff* of 
the observatory, on the heights of West Saint Mary’s, across 
the river opposite the city. All this was done to let the 
good people of Saint Mary’s know that the sliip “Eoyal 
Mary ” was coming into port. A lucky ship that “ Eoyal 
Mary.” She was named Mary after the royal daughter of 
James II., who will soon be crowned queen of England, 
joint sovereign with her husband, 'William III. She is 
doubly royal, and that ship is just completing her third trip 
beween Saint Mary’s and London. She usually makes two, 
but in this eventful year of 1688 she makes three trips ; and 
our well fed, portly English ancestors who dwell in this 
good city are hurr;ying to the “ quay ” to get their files of 
the London Gazette. 


\ 


THE ANCIENT CITY OF SAINT MARTS. 43 

The last ship brought stirring news from London. The 
prince of Orange had landed at Tarboy on the south coast 
of England, at the head of an invading army, and James II., 
deserted by all his friends, had fled from London. 

Soon a mass of square canvas, towering over a black hull, 
with perpendicular sides rising like a dead wall from the 
water, wore round “ Chancellor’s Point,” and began taking 
in sail as the ship ploughed her way before the keen north- 
west wind to the ‘‘ quay.” 

That “ Chancellor’s Point ” was the w'estern limit of the 
harbor, and ships were not visible to the citizens of Saint 
Mary’s until they had doubled that point, but from the. 
observatory on the heights of West Saint Mary’s they could 
be signaled when they entered the mouth of the river at its 
junction with the Potomac. 

There was a gray-bearded old Jew, who lived on that point 
in a quaint-looking brick house, in the midst of a thicket of 
pear and cedar trees, whose name was “Cancella.” The 
Enghsh spelt it as they pronounced it, “ Chancellor,” hence 
the origin of its name which it bears to this day. By the 
time the ship was moored to the wharf, the male population 
of the city were on the “ quay ” or on their way thither, and 
the surface of the river above and below dotted with boats 
pointing cityward. 

Usually the arrival of a ship from “ Home,” as old Eng- 
land was then called, was greeted with lusty cheers and a 
noisy welcome; but now they were silent, in dread of the 
unwelcome tidings that ship was bringing of civil war and 
all its horrors. 

An hour passed, and the crowd began to break into 
groups and return as they went, with slower steps and sad- 
dened faces. 

Many, as they passed the “ Crown and Mitre,” cast signifi- 
cant glances at the gorgeous sign-board, which the worthy 
landlord, Jack Jeffries, had put up on the accession of 
James 11. 


44 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


All did not confine themselves to glances. “ Take that 
sign down landlord,” said one of them to the taciturn 
Boniface as he stood leaning against one of the brick pillars 
of his porch, “ and put a barrel of Holland gin and a tub of 
sour-krout in its place.” Boniface smiled, and said nothing. 

“ Put G-oneril’s head under that crown, and Titus Oates 
under that mitre, and you will be right,” said another. 
Another smile, but not a word from Boniface. 

“ Let me suggest a new sign, landlord : Tarquinia driving 
her chariot over the dead body of her father f said the third, as 
he passed. At this last thrust at Queen Mary, Boniface 
neither smiled nor spoke. 

“Pipers’ news,” said Jack Jeffries, as the last speaker and 
the last man was out of hearing. “ I heard all a week ago, 
but I keep an inn — and my tongue.” Then with his quiet, 
sombre air, the taciturn landlord turned to go in, but as he 
turned, four men, wrapped in voluminous cloaks of Spanish 
style, entered the porch from the avenue, and one of them 
in a clear, melodious voice, said or rather chanted, 

“ Ad nos, ad salutorem undam, 

Venite, O miseri.” 

“Which means,” said another, “A bovl of tiff, hot and 
strong. We celebrate New Year’s eve to-night.” 

The host smiled and bowed his customers in. 

There was another house in which New Year’s eve was 
celebrated, but in a more quiet and solemn manner than 
was proposed by the jovial scholastic and his boon com- 
panions. 

We have described the locality of Fendall’s house. It 
remains to present the tout ensemble of a domicile so typical 
of its occupant. 

You approached the house by ascending a knoll, covered 
and shaded by large patriarchal holly trees, with their ever- 
green leaves and scarlet berries forming a most beautiful 


THE ANCIENT CITY OF SAINT MARTS. 45 

contrast to the leafless and wintry appearance of all sur- 
rounding vegetation. 

The house was built of glazed brick, one and a half story 
high, rectangular, the walls thick and strong enough to serve 
for a jail. The entrance was a semicircular brick porch, like 
the longitudinal section of a cone, coming to a sharp point 
imder the eaves of the roof. But for the lanciform arch and 
narrow lanciform windows, the porch might have been mis- 
taken for a buttress to sustain both wall and roof. 

The first floor contained two rooms and a passage, run- 
ning through the short diameter of the house. A narrow 
staircase ascended from the hall to the attic, which contained 
similar disposition of rooms. 

The interior of the whole house was wainscoted with 
black walnut peculiar to American forests. 

One of the rooms on the first floor was the dining-room, 
and the other the hbrary and sitting-room combined. 

We enter the library; a brass chandeher hanging by a 
brass chain, both scoured until they look like burnished 
gold, pours a flood of hght upon an open Bible large enough 
to cover one-third of the massive oak table upon which it 
lies. At the table, in a high-back oak chair, is seated an 
old man, past the threescore and ten years allotted to human 
life. 

He was straight, tall and thin. His long white hair fell 
lank and straight upon his shoulders. His heavy white mous- 
tache concealed his thin compressed lips. One hand lay 
upon the open page of the Bible, the other rested upon the 
head of a young girl of about eighteen years, sitting on a stool 
at his feet. She had been reading to him the contents of the 
files of the London Gazette, brought over by the “Royal 
Mar 5 ^” They contained a recital of the stirring 'events of 
that period. 

The last hour of that last night of the year 1688, was well 
nigh spent ere she closed the last paper. She was a light- 
haired, fair-complexioned, blue-eyed beauty, and read in a 


40 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


clear and silver tone the events of the last days of James II. 
And when the last column closed with the last words of the 
last Stuart, the last uttered by him in an English palace, 
“ God help me, my own children have deserted me in my 
old age,” the woman’s and daughter’s heart overflowed, and 
tears glistened in those deep blue eyes of a Puritan’s 
daughter. 

“Poor old man ! ” ejaculated Eendall. “I pity the man, I 
sympathize with the father, but not the king, who threw 
away three crowns for one mass. But my daughter, those 
tidings, darkened as they are with sorrow and crime, tell 
me that the dawn of that ‘Great, Deliverance’ which we 
have sought v/ith tears, ashes and blood for long years, 
is at hand, and I am ready to go hence whenever the great 
Adjutant General bids me march. The hand that for me 
unbars the gates of death is a friendly hand, and I depart 
without a pang. But for you, the sole survivor of the 
many lights of my hearth, I leave an ample inlieritance 
of this world’s wealth. To the vain and giddy women 
of fashion it would prove a snare, but not so to you. I 
must now speak wherein I have long been silent. Before 
you put your heart, your all, into any man’s keeping, ask 
yourself and answer affirmatively, ‘Is he God fearing, is he 
brave, is he honest, is he truthful ?’ With these qualifications 
you are safe, let the reverses of fortune be what they may. 
My daughter, Euth Eendall, is Philip Calvert all these ? ” 

At the mention of that name, Euth Eendall hid her face 
in her hands. 

The old man, after a pause, resumed, “In my heart of 
hearts he has none of these. He has aH the amenities 
and graces, and all the gentlemanly vices of the society 
with which he is classified, but to which he docs not, by the 
strict law of lineage belong. He is the bastard son of a bastard. 
But let that pass. It is his misfortune, not his fault. He 
is a Eoman Cathohc of the Jesuit type ; were that all it, too, 
might pass. I have knowm good and holy men even among 


TUB ANCIENT CITY OF SAINT MAETS. 


47 


Jesuit priests. It is false teacliing that perverts weak 
minds, which unfortunately compose the greater part of 
mankind. But he is indolent, unstable, unfixed morally and 
j)olitically except ds classman and pleasure-loving. With 
these disqualifications he would become poor if he were 
rich, and worse if he were poor. Then, again, does he love 
you He does not ; he loves himself, but not you.” 

The frame of Buth Fendall was convulsed with a slight 
shudder. 

“If you have any w'omanly weakness, my daughter,” 
resumed the father, “for that man, crush it, stifle it. lie- 
member that religion forbids suicide but not martyrdom. 
Wear your crovm of thorns, let the barbed thorns j)ierce 
ever so deeply. Bemember, my child, that last silence in 
the Judgment Hall ; that long foreknowledge of the deadly 
tree. Can you not bear one little pang, scarce felt ere it is 
gone — for Christ’s sake, for your own sake, your poor old 
father’s sake, who is about to pass away from earth ? ” 

At this moment the great bell in the dome of the State 
House began to toll, and while the resonance of the first 
stroke was vibrating in the keen and frosty air, a gleam of 
light flashed, and the report of a cannon pealed from one of 
the casemates of the fort. 

“ The New Year signal,” said Fendall. “ Let us pray.” 

And long and fervently he prayed as he had often done 
aforetime ; saluting the parting year and welcoming the 
New Year with suj)plications and. thanks to the throne of 
Grace ; praying as though he knew that the fulness of time 
was nigh at hand for him when he could pray no more on 
earth. 

Thus “ exegi oppidum.'' A bustling little provincial town, 
that city of the “ Calverts,” a little more than a half century 
old in 1688^ but older in events. 

A vice regal court, which gave to its metropolitans all the 
self-love and the tone of grand seigneurie, until the proprie- 
taiy coronal was swallowed up in the crown, like those great 


48 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


vassal feudatories of old France, gobbled up each in their 
turn by Chaxles “ the lucky ” and Louis “ the unlucky,” as 
Prussia and Bismarck have done with the petty principalities 
around them in our own day. 

In the course of time the city of the Calverts disaj^peared 
from the banks of the Saint Mary’s, like the city of the 
Ptolemies from the banks of the Nile ; and the “ plain of 
Saint Mary’s” has become, not exactly hke the plains of 
Nineveh, a dwelling for bats, owls, foxes and wolves, but 
homesteads for tillers of the soil. 

Thus we have seen the capital of “ Terrse Maria ” at 
that phase of its colonial existence when political and relig- 
ious fermentation is forming, organizing and putting into 
practical operation, those grand ideas wliich resulted, one 
century later with another generation, in American Inde- 
pendence. 


CHAPTER III. 

A STATE DINNER. 

It was a custom with the proprietary governors of Mary- 
land to gather around their festive board on the first day 
of every New Year, those manor lords, those large landed 
proprietors, whose patents covered the map of Saint Mary’s 
county; who, in habits, tastes and feelings so closely approxi- 
mated the landed gentry of England, and Avho being gener- 
ally Catholics, were not only the personal friends of the lord 
proprietor himself, but the pillars of the proprietary itself. 

It was on a due observance of this hereditary custom 
that the proprietary staff, as we may call the representatives 
of colonial autocracy, gathered around that historic oval 
table, at which presided Philip Calvert, governor of the 
prbvince of Maryland in the absence of the lord pro- 


A STATU DINNER. 49 

prietor, Charles, the third lord of Baltimore, on the 1st of 
January, 1689. 

The appearance of this dining party was imposing. It was 
composed of hale, hearty, plethoric-looking men, grand in 
black, or gorgeous in scarlet velvet, according as they Avere 
civilians or officials. The long morning ride of many of 
them who had come from the upper portions of the county, 
had prepared them to do ample justice to the luxurious fare 
under which the table of every colonist in those days 
groaned. Oysters, venison, Avild fowl, luscious home-raised 
beef, and home-cured bacon hams. Wines Avere absent for 
the simple reason, the colonists had Avhat was better — the pro- 
duct of their stills — the apple and peach brandy, to which 
long storage had given clearness, dehcacy and strength. 

But unlike every other re-union of this kind, there was an 
absence of that gleesome mirth, that hilarious outpouring of 
full hearts and strong lungs which usually rendered the pro- 
prietary state levees so pleasant to remember Avhen past, 
and so eagerly anticipated in prospective. The convivial Avere 
grave without being sad. Their mirth was sobered by the 
skeleton that Avould not vanish at their bidding. For this 
there were two causes, each with their train of unpleasant 
reflections. 

That proprietaiy charter, the gift of the martyred Charles, 
the starting point of a grand civilization Avhich their ances- 
tors had struggled so nobly to maintain in its rude trials of 
early colonial history, which had passed the ordeal of the 
great rebelhon, the usurpation of Cromwell, and which as 
they thought, the restoration of the second Charles had put 
beyond political vicissitudes, and under which they and 
their children had hoj^ed to live and die, that charter was 
now on its defence before an English court of chancery, and 
the lord proprietor of the i^rovince had gone to England 
to defend it. The prince of the round table Avas gone, 
and his chair filled by a shadoAv; Beyond his social posi- 
tion Philip Calvert, the ‘‘ nephew of his uncle,” had but 


50 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


little claim upon tlie respect of the colonial aristocracy. 

There was a second absence which added to the gloom of 
the party; the chair of Father Hunter, the missionary priest 
at St. Inigoes, was vacant. His great erudition, his keen 
scholastic wit and jovial temperament, tempered as it was 
with intellectual Christian graces, in those days of bitter 
sectarian persecution, rendered him the magnetic light o| 
the “round table,” as that adjunct of the Castle dining-room 
was called. He had been called at early dawn to visit a 
dying man in the upper portion of the parish, who had been 
wounded mortally in one of those local emeutes which are 
often the precursors of civil war. 

These depressing circumstances would have been prob- 
ably but temporary in their operations, but for a third and 
greater cause of "the pervading gloom. 

A ship had anchored in the harbor the previous evening 
and brought very grave intelligence from England, that 
William, prince of Orange, was in possession of the throne 
of England, and James II. had fled inglorious from the 
realm. 

A French privateer had also brought the intelligence that 
king Louis XIY., of France, had pledged his royal word 
to reinstate James Stuart with all the power of the monar- 
chy, and that letters of marque were issued against Eng- 
land’s commerce. 

This successful invasion of English soil and revolution 
had bitterly disappointed the hopes and blasted the expec- 
tations of those, who four years ago had seen the star of 
Monmouth — the darling, the pet — the sun of the English 
Protestant party, go down in blood on the plain of Sedge- 
moor — a stronger man, in a better cause they deemed — than 
Calvanistic Wilham of Orange. That the people of England, 
would open their arms to receive a foreign prince at the 
head of a foreign army of invasion, when that they had as 
law-abiding subjects, closed their hearts, and stifled their 
affections for a son of their darling Charles, the Absalom of 


A STATE DINNER, 


51 


their David. At one time openly acknowledged by his 
father the King, as the presumptive heir of the throne of 
England, the idea Avas a heresy too ridiculous for aught but 
contempt. But so it was. The ill news to them was too true. 

A singular historical anomaly had been enacted which set 
all human calculations at defiance — they conversed in low 
tones and in side groups, until Philip Calvert setting down 
his half drained glass with a tremulous crash on the table, 
said in a loud tone that hushed the murmuring buzz around 
him : “History has its eccentricities as Avell as humanity. 
The sons of that race who met Csesar on the sands of Dover, 
aiid gave William, of Normandy, a bloody welcome at Hast- 
ings, have yielded without a struggle to a Dutch boor.” 

“ Tell it not, in Gath, nor imblish in the streets of Ascalon,” 
said John Chesley of Parkton, “ that the high church Pro- 
testant party of England hesitated between Papistical James 
of York, and Protestant James of Monmouth, when one 
word openly spoken, or one act boldly done, would have 
settled the question of the Protestant succession as a finality 
and secured the future peace of the realm.” 

“In one sentiment,” said Sir Francis Egerton of Stiint 
Michael’s Manor, “ I differ from my friend and neighbor. 
The substitution of the duke of Monmouth for the duke of 
York, as the successor of Charles II. would have been a 
very unhappy one for the people, and the church of Eng- 
land. The duke of Monmouth had all the vices, but none 
of the virtues of the Stuarts — granting what is a doubtful 
question that the blood of the Stuarts did run in his veins. 
Though he died young, his life was stained by such a degree 
of treachery, frivolity and imbecility, as rarely darkened 
the life of an English prince. His graceful deportment at 
the scaffold was the only clever thing in his history. While 
a youth, and known only as Captain Crofts of the royal Hal- 
berdiers, he privately married Anne Hepburn, daughter 
of John Hepburn, of Cornwall. The Rev. John Coade, as he 
was then known, performed the ceremony. Shortly after- 


52 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


wards he became duke of Monmouth ; then he aspired to 
the hand of the duchess of Buccleugh, the wealthiest heiress 
in the three kingdoms. He must get rid of the secret mar- 
riage ties. John Coade was bribed to alter the registry and 
pronounce the marriage a forgery. Monmouth’s faction, to 
get rid of Coade, had his clerical orders revoked, and trans- 
ported to the colonies for a less offence. 

“ It is owing to this chain of circumstances that vv^e have 
that seditious demagogue and professional anarchist among 
us. Now afterwards, the king in one of his revels acknow- 
ledged Monmouth to be the heir apparent. What followed ? 
Why the odious exclusion bill against liis uncle James, duke 
of York, and his posterity. Then followed that darker tale 
of Monmouth’s complicity in the Kye House j^lot to assassi- 
nate his king — as some say, his father — in the eagerness of a 
bastard’s ambition to wear the purple. Like a guilty 
wretch he fled the kingdom. He gathered around him at 
the Hague, by the tacit acquiescence of the prince of Orange, 
a little army of English renegades and visionary enthusiasts. 
Then followed his invasion of England, his defeat at Sedge- 
moor, and his death on the scaffold of Tower Hill. 

Granting that Charles the king was Monmouth’s father in 
fact, what then ? Charles’s marriage with Lucy W alters, even 
if there was a marriage, was in contravention of the laws of 
the realm, which provides for, and specifies, the manner of 
royal marriages; and what is more significant still, this 
so-called marriage was repudiated by Charles himself on his 
death-bed, when he named his brother James his successor. 
Legitimatize Monmouth, you inaugurate anarchy. Mon- 
mouth’s marriage with Anna Hepburn was consummated by 
cohabitation and domiciliation. His marriage with the 
duchess of Buccleugh was only a nominal right and an 
illegal act, 

“ Monmouth had a daughter by Anna Hepburn. To re- 
move an obnoxious witness Avho had forbid the bans or 
otherwise thwarted the Buccleugh marriage, John Hepburn 


A STAT^ DINNER. 


53 


of Cornwall, Anna’s father, received a note from the “ Cabal,” 
— that ominous word composed of the initial letters of those 
five dark spirits, Clifford, Arhngton, Buckingham, Ashley 
and Lauderdale, who ruled the court and council chamber 
of king Charles II., — to quit the realm with his daughter. 

“ Hepburn, a taciturn old man, knew too well the peril he 
incurred to disobey. He took his child, his only daughter, 
and fled to French San Domingo, and became a Buccaneer. 
His daughter died in giving birth to a daughter of England — 
you may say. If you admit her father’s legitimacy as a son 
of Charls H., the wheel of revolution may make that grand- 
daughter of a Buccaneer a second Elizabeth, or Lady Jane 
Grey. 

“Again, prince Henry, duke of Gloucester, the younger 
brother of James H., was secretly married by an Itahan 
priest in contravention of the laws of the realm, to Julia 
Copley. Prince Henry died suspiciously of “ measles.” His 
widow fled to Borne ; and, some say, sent her infant 
daughter across the seas to be educated in the tenets of the 
church of England, to remove any disabihties of Papacy 
which might stand between her and the throne, should any 
l^olitical contingency make her a candidate for the same. 
And some whisper that the girl is a ward of old Solomon 
Cancella, the banker of this capital; who has given a name — as 
we English pronounce it, “ Chancellor ” — to one of the promi- 
nent landmarks of the harbor of Saint Mary’s. But be that 
as it may, that girl is another rallying point for conspirators, 
revolutionists and factionists to mar the peace and quiet of 
the realm. 

“ Therefore, I say, let us never depart from our ancient 
ways — stabamus super antiquas vias. Let our line of kings be 
unbroken. The law establishing the church of England is 
national and political in its significance. James II. v/as born 
a Catholic before he was crowned a king. As a king he car- 
ried out the acts of j)arliament ; as a man he prayed to his 
God as his conscience dictated. Certainly an honest Catholic 


54 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


was bettei* than an infidel Protestant. If the exclusion act 
of the parliament of Charles 11. was violated in the accession 
of James 11., what does the usurpation of Calvanistic Wil- 
liam of Orange do? He, William, can only swear on his 
coronation oath, as did James the Catholic, to maintain the 
church of England as by law established. Do you give the 
hberty of conscience to the subject, and deny your king? ” 

“ In some remarks I agree, and in some I disagree with 
my friend and neighbor who has just spoken,” said Jerome 
Hawley, of Hawley’s Manor. “ I agree with his personal 
objections to the character of the duke of Monmouth, but I 
disagree to the fact that an act of parliament becomes a 
nullity, because in two instances it has been violated. The 
parliament of England have enacted and re-enacted through 
successive reigns that the Protestant Episcopal church shall 
be the established church of the realm. As a Cathohc I 
object to the act ; but as a subject, I recognize a law made 
for us, not as an agreement made with us, which estabhshes 
a principle of stability and peace. The Protestant succes- 
sion is the supreme law of the land, and two legal wrongs 
do not make one legal right. The first parliament of Charles 
n. ignored as null and void all the acts of the usurpation, 
as they called the reign of Cromwell, and dated the reign of 
Charles II. from the death of his father, Charles I. The 
marriage of Charles II. at the Hague with Lucy Walters, 
was an act of the king of England, which the restoration of 
1660 legalized; and James, duke of Monmouth, was born of 
the king's wife — the queen de jure , — and queens, let me tell 
you, among their other rights, have that of producing princes. 
Monmouth was of right the heir and successor of Charles II. 
The character of that young man was anything but satis- 
factory, I must say it with great grief and mortification ; 
but it is better all will admit, to bear the temporary iUs of 

personal defects in a prince who reigns, but not governs ^it is 

the people and parliament that govern England — than to un- 
settle even for a moment the established principles of a 


A STATE DINNER. 


55 


government whose peace policy is toleration, whose revo- 
lutionary policy must become persecution. All of you, my 
friends, will admit that a prince hostile to the ecclesiastical 
pohcy of the realm is as great an anomaly in pohtics as in 
religion. As a Cathohc I viewed the accession of the duke 
of York as an ill-omened event for the Catholics of England 
and the colonies ; and so it has proved. He was a man of 
one idea, and that behind the times. This class of rulers 
are calamities. It was Monmouth’s death that gave him a 
right to the throne. He was the successor of his nephew, 
whom he slew, not of his brother whom he survived. 
While we of Maryland were hailing his accession with bon- 
fires and ale, his Lord Chancellor was issuing a writ of qvx) 
warranto against this very proprietary charter of Maryland, 
■which is all that gives the Cathohcs of this province the right 
to say their prayers in open day. If Monmouth or Prince 
Hemy left heirs born in wedlock, then James Stuart never 
had a right to the throne of England. If I am a Cathohc, I 
am also a tory, and I re-echo the sentiment, but in a differ- 
ent sense, of my worthy neighbor. Sir Francis — semper staba- 
mils super antiquas vias.” 

This discussion was interrupted by the servant throwung 
open the door and announcing, “Eev. Father Hunter.” 

This announcement was followed by the entrance of a stout 
square built man with a bald head, a merry gray eye twink- 
ling under his beetling brow, clad in a long black cassock, 
confined at the waist by a belt of black webbing, from which 
hung a rosary. 

“Peace be to this house,” said the priest as all rose to re- 
ceive him. “ I regret my friends,” he continued, “ that my 
pastoral duties prevented me from joining you earlier, and 
still more regret the unhappy character of the case which 
required my services. . Yesterday evening, sheriff Payne in 
attempting to execute certain orders he had received, to 
collect the arms in the hands of the militiamen, was shot at 
the house of one Thomas Wingate and mortally wounded. 


56 


THE BUCCANEERS . 


I reached him in time to administer the last rites of the 
church.” 

“Order to collect arms!” ejaculated Philip Calvert. “I 
issued no such order.” 

“Nevertheless the sheriff received such,” rephed Father 
Hunter ; “ and here it is as I received it from the dying 
man — and forthwith drew from his bosom a crumpled and 
blood-stained paper, and after carefully unfolding it, read 
thus : 

“ To Thomas Payne, Sheriff of Saint Mary’s County. 

“You are herewith commanded on this 2Gth day of 
December, 1688, to collect all arms in the hands of the 
militia of this county, and store the same in the arsenal at 
Saint Mary’s without delay, and this shall be your warrant 
for the same. Philip Calvert, 

Lieut. Gov.” 

“ A villainous forgery I ” exclaimed Phil^ Calvert ; “ but a 
good imitation. To disarm the militia at a time like this, 
when we require all loyal hearts and strong arms for our 
defence, perhaps of life as well as government and law, 
would have been a blunder worse than crime, of which no 
sane man in my position could have been guilty.” 

“ The forgery appears to be too palpable,” said Father 
Hunter, “ to deceive any one familiar with the formalities 
of the executive office, as this sheriff ought to have been. It 
has neither the signature of your Excellency’s secretai^% or 
the seal of the office.” 

“ It unfortunately happens,” said Calvert, hesitating and 
coloring, “ that about two years ago, I did issue such an 
informal order, but in a different case for a special purpose, 
to J ohn Coade, then the high sheriff of this county, and this 
Payne was his deputy; hence the deception is easily ac- 
counted for on the part of Payne.” 

“What was this special occasion?” inquired Sir Francis 
Egerton. 


A STATE DINNER. 


57 


“For the arrest and private examination of one Kate 
Wariing'ton, a half crazy hermitess at Cedar Point, at 
the mouth of Patuxent river. She was accused of using 
decoy lights to wreck ships on that bleak sand reef. But 
nothing was ehcited beyond the fact that the woman had 
a blazing fire on her hearth, and a glass window in her hut, 
one dark night when a ship, under the charge of a dmnken 
pilot, scudding before a south easterly gale, was beached on 
the end of the point.” 

“Another question,” said Sir Francis. “Who is this 
woman Warrington?” 

“ A woman who was transported to this province for a 
less offence, when she should have hung for a greater ; but 
she is now in the hands of the church, and to the church 
we leave her,” replied Calvert. 

“ My predecessor at this mission,” said Father Hunter, 
taking up the narrative where Calvert left it, “put her under 
a heavy penance for twenty years ; one year of penance yet 
remains ; let her hve and die in peace.” 

“Appropos of John Coade,” said Chesley of Parkton, 
“ John Coade, John Leisler of New York, Kenelm Chiseldine 
and Capt. Kidd, freebooter, have been sitting three days in 
close conclave at the ‘ Crown and Mitre ; ’ and this is their 
work.” 

“ Undoubtedly,” said Father Hunter, “for in addition to 
the murder of Payne, Collector Kously of Calvert, was sliot 
nearly the same time in attempting to collect the proprietary 
quit rent of one Hiram Willoughby, at Drum Point. These 
acts, with all their concomitant circumstances, warrant me in 
saying that we are on the eve of what its instigators would 
like to dignify by the name of ‘ Protestant Bevolution of Mary- 
land.’ But in this they have not even the merit of Cataline. 
They are anarchists, not revolutionists. They are conspiring 
for a revolution, which is already made for them so far as 
his lordship the proprietor is concerned ; and in confirma- 
tion of this, here is his lordship’s letter received last night.” 


58 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


“London, Dec. 1, 1688. 

“ Bev. Father : I write in great bitterness of heart and 
tribulation of spirit. We are in the iourhillon of a political 
chaos, and must so remain until some supreme controlling 
power shall say, ‘ let there be order ’ amid the elements , of 
political strife. The prince of Orange is within one day’s 
march of London. King James II. has fled away. The 
throne of England is vacant. The whigs have gone in a 
body over to the prince of Orange ; the Protestant tories 
have followed the whigs. The Catholic tories have either 
followed James across the Channel or submitted in sullen 
silence to inevitable fate. A proclamation has been issued 
by the prince of Orange, to the estates of the Kingdom to 
meet in convention parliament, and determine who shall fill 
the vacant throne. It does not require the inspiration of 
prophecy to say who that person will be. But, be the reign- 
ing dynasty who it may, I request — if necessaiy, I enjoin 
upon — the good people of the province of Maryland, to be 
patient, quiet, law-abiding and submissive to the acts of par- 
liament, of England. Let them remember that dynasties are 
but of men and women, and are therefore subject to all the 
human contingencies to which men and women are liable — 
that English law will ever govern Ecglish soil and mould 
its destinies. If the convention parliament thus called, pro- 
claim William and Mary king and queen of England, do ye 
so likewUe. The law is made for you, not with you. Until 
the 'waters of this uiDheaval-deluge subside into their normal 
channels, the question of the proprietary charter must remain 
undecided. But the highest judicial authorities of the land 
have assured me that the territorial rights of the charter can 
never be abated or abrogated, that the land patents issued 
under the charter are as valid as any land patents issued by 
the Crown ; that they are identical in character. The land 
patents issued by predecessors to the Jesuit Fathers, secures 
to them the right of erecting churches on their own lands, 
and the free exercise of rehgious worship therein. It is for 


A STATE DINNER. 


59 


this, the right to give to others what we claim for ourselves 
— to worship God according to the dictates of our conscience 
— that we and our ancestors before us have struggled through 
half a century of colonial existence. Let us but secure this 
and then all questions of political preferment, rank or power, 
which the charter involves are but of secondary importance. 
Therefore be ye as wise as serpents and as harmless as doves; 
do nothing that will complicate our rights in the eyes of a 
parliament which is an embodiment of the people of Eng- 
land. In God, and the yeomanry of merry old England, I 
trust. To guard against any possible or probable contin- 
gency which might afford a i:)retext to any faction ov fraction 
of parliament, direct the sheriffs of the several counties of 
Maryland to collect the arms in the hands of the militia, and 
store them in the arsenal at Saint Mary’s, where they will 
be under the control of the post commander. Let the 
anarchists and fanatics of the province plot and agitate as 
they may, let them contravene the acts of parliament if they 
will — then they, not us, Avill be the objects of parliamentary 
vengeance. 

“ Aware of the liabilities and risks which all letters sent 
across the seas at this time must encounter, I have written 
duplicates of this letter to my nephew, the Lieut. Governor, 
and to Col. Sewall at Mattaponi, hoping that at least one 
of the three may reach their destination to the timely fore- 
warning and forearming of the good people of Maryland, 
for whom we shall ever pray. 

“ Your friend, 

“ Charles, of Baltimore.*’ 

“ Bravo, bravissimo ! for our liege lord proprietary,” ex- 
claimed Chesley, slapping his fleshy thighs and shaking his 
fat sides with an explosion of laughter. Macchiavelli, 
hoping for a second restoration of the Stuarts, and fearing 
the second usurpation of William of Normandy, could not 
have done better.” 


60 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


“ I propose/’ said Father Hunter, folding the letter with a 
serene smile, “to his Excellency here, to appoint John 
Coade sheriff of this county, vice Thomas Payne, deceased, 
until his lordship’s pleasure to the contrary be known ; and 
send withal an order to collect the arms in the very words 
of the forgeiy. It may make him an honest man, and ashamed 
of an act which he thought such a shrewd and clever piece of 
rascality, so Avorthy of his preceptor, Titus Oates. If he obeys 
the order, it unfangs a serpent ; if he disobeys it, or shrinks 
from the performance of its duties, it complicates him and 
his cabal.” 

This proposal was received with shouts of laughter and 
approval by the jovial squirarchy, who had a keen scent for 
anything that had an inkhng of drollery and fun, or that 
would make an enemy ridiculous, however gloomy the 
political hours are. 

AVriting materials were brought, and the document was 
written and sent to the appointee, Avho was holding a con- 
clave at the “ CroAvn and Mitre,” little dreaming of aid 
from such a quarter. 

The dining party at the Castle, some hours later, separated 
with lighter hearts than when they met. 


CHAPTER IV. 

CUTTING OUT WOEK. 

While the events which are related in the preceding 
chapter Avere transpiring, four men, Avho subsequently at- 
tained a singular notoriety in Alaryland colonial history, were 
seated at a small table in the private parlor of the inn 
known as the “ CroAvn and Mitre.” In the centre of the 
table Avas placed a large china bowl, the smoking contents of 


CUTTING OUT WORK, 


61 


which exhaled an aroma of peach brandy, spice and sugar — 
a mixture in a common solvent of warm water — called by 
the tapsters of that day, “ tiff.” 

One of the party, after stirring the smoking contents with 
a ladle, preceded to fiU therewith four pewter mugs, which 
were standing in a row beside the bowl ; and when filled, 
each of the four took a mug, and then with a smile and a 
nod to each other, drained the contents. Then each set 
down his empty mug, with regret perhaps, that the pleas- 
ures of taste were so transient. 

That stout, square-built man, with a red face and redder 
nose, large jaw and coarse teeth, high intellectual brow, 
keen gray eyes, and close cropped grizzly hair, bristhng with 
porcupine erectness, in faded black velvet, is “ John Coade, 
advocate,” as he called himself. 

The tall, thin man, with eyes so blue and so full of that 
bright but steady fire, like ignited anthracite, whose auburn 
hair is so neatly coifed, whose ample white lace neckcloth is 
so artistically tied and set off with a large diamond solitaire, 
whose brown velvet suit looks so new and so glossy, who 
has just ungloved his thin wliite hands, either to save the 
“kids ” from the stain of erratic drops of tiff, or exhibit their 
feminine delicacy — that man is John Leisler, of New York, 
pohtician. 

The man in gray homespun cloth, whose thin hair, colored 
like dead grass, is carefully combed back from his freckled 
face, making his high cheek bones and long beak of a nose 
more than necessarily prominent in his profile as he is 
ladling out the hquor for his boon companions, is Kenelm 
Chiseldine, farmer and Puritan — a sect whose ideas political 
and theological were giving shape and complexion to the 
status of the province. 

The fourth man, in a red silk net cap, from the borders of 
which his raven locks fell in small corkscrew curls on his 
shoulders, joartially concealing his sallow face, with his loose 
black velvet jacket buttoned with gold doubleloons, and the 


62 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


legs of liis loose duck stuck in high Turkish boots, is John 
Kidd, Buccaneer from San Domingo. 

“Now friends and brethren,” said Coade, taking out a roll 
of papers from his capacious skirt pocket, “now for the 
work of the Lord.” 

“ Which I hope begins with the act of proclaiming their 
majesties, William and Mary,” said Kenelm Chiseldine. 

“ Festina lente, Kenelm,” replied Coade, archly tapping 
his ruby nose. “ Festina lente^ man, without haste, without 
rest. Bemember what I told you and old Kendall four years 
ago, when you and he were in such hot haste to proclaim the 
duke of Monmouth as James 11.. And had I allowed you 
or he to have your way, old big wig Nat. Blackistone would 
have held just such an assize at Saint Mary’s as the bloody 
Jeffries did at Bridgewater and Exeter, and our bones would 
have been mouldering at ‘ Hangman’s Cross ’ instead of sit- 
ting in a cosy inn on a cold winter day, warming ourselves 
by a bright fire with a hot bowl of rich liquor — all the 
better thereby — to speed the work of the gospel now.” 

“ Bemember my worthy friend,” interpolated Leisler, “we 
folloio — not lead — parliament of England. A man can plead 
an act of parliament when the proclamation of a defeated 
prince, like Monmouth for instance, would not only be waste 
paper, but ensure his hanging by the successful party.” 

“ We tread on the heels of the parliament of England,” 
said Coade, thumping the table with his knuckles by way of 
emphasis, “ while the proprietary party here, if it follow ai all 
— Catholics and Jacobites, tories, both — must needs follow 
in our rear with an ill grace, at a long interval of time and 
space. In this wise, this petition — signed by all the God-fearing 
men of the province ” — here Coade unrolled a scroll of paper 
— “ praying their majesties — ^blank spaces left for the names 
of their majesties — to take the government of this province 
into their own hands by annuling a proprietary charter which 
stands between the prerogative of the king and the duties of 
the subj ect. This petition leaves here to-night. Brother Kidd 


GUTTING OUT WORK. 


63 


sees to that. It will be in London by the 1st of February next. 
The convention parhament meets on the 8th of February, and 
the instant the crown question is settled by parhament, the 
blank space in the petition is filled with the name or names 
of the sovereigns as the case may be, and put in their hands 
Thus our existence as the royal party of Maryland is made 
known at court before the dynasty is twenty-four hours old. 
My lord Baltimore will wait to make terms for his charter 
before he sends any instructions to his lieutenant here, and 
then those instructions are liable to be intercepted.” Here 
Coade winked at Kidd, and Kidd smiled intelligently. “ In 
the meantime,” Coade continued, “ the government of this 
province has passed into our hands already. The blessed 
work has begun. There is now a very satisfactory state of 
anarchy in the province from resistance to the payment of 
quit rent, but more particularly to that general order from 
high head-quarters about the collection of arms from the 
yeoman militia, which, with other things, will warrant the 
assumption by the crown, of the government of the proprie- 
tary colonies. This is much ; but more work has to be 
done, and to make this plain to your understandings, I 
must ramble over a very long throat-drying antecedental 
preface.” 

Here Coade tapped his nose and winked at the bowl. 

All smiled, and Kenelm filled the empty mugs which, 
after the usual preliminaries, were emptied again. 

“ You must know,” Coade resumed, “ that in the year 1670 1 
was known as the Rev. John Coade, rector of Stanley Braugh, 
near Veryan in Cornwall. Among my parishioners was one 
John Hepburn ; a taciturn old man who kept his mouth 
shut like a surly mastiff, and his eyes open like an owl. He 
was called ^ John the silent.’ One of John’s ancestors had 
been knighted on the field of Agincourt by Henry V., and 
subsequently made duke of Brittainy in France by the same 
monarch, when he had the good luck to be crowned at 
Rheims. Of course the patent was worth nothing after the 


64 


THE BUCGAEEEBS 


French recovered their territory from the successors of the 
English king. After the treaty of Dover in 1662, ‘ John the 
silent ’ goes to Paris, obtains an audience with Louis XIV., 
and presents his musty old parchment, with a petition an- 
nexed, for restoration. The courtiers of Louis XIV. made 
that monarch, in his vain glory, believe that no mortal could 
return his eye; and it was customary for the grand mon- 
arque to look every body steadily in the face that approached. 
Of course a Frenchman would in his presence look down, 
cower, and shield his eyes from the piercing rays of that 
royal sun. But ‘ John the silent ’ marched into the royal 
presence as erect as one of Cromwell’s pikemen, and with a 
curt genuflexion presented his j)etition and document with- 
out a word, and eyeing the king as fiercely as a bull dog. 
Louis glanced from the man to the petition, shrugged his 
royal shoulders as none but the grand monarque could do, 
then without a word wrote on the back of the patent thus — 
^ When English lords become French subjects, the king of France 
loill make English dukes' — and handed back the petition with 
his document. He took them and backed out of the royal 
chamber with as much erectness as a corporal would ‘ dress 
backwards to the rear ’ in English tactics. And J ohn returned 
to England more silent and moody than before. Neverthe- 
less this same ‘ J ohn the silent ’ had a daughter, one of the 
most lovely types of human beauty I ever saw. I think I 
can say, without being indicted by a Papistical grand jury 
of Saint Mary’s county for blasphemy, as I once w^as, that 
as the Italian painters impersonated the Madonna as the 
‘ Mother of God,* tliis girl coidd have typified the ‘ daughter 
of God,’ — ^filia imlchriora matrej as Horace has it. So rare 
was this combination of physical beauty in statue, form, fea- 
tures and expression, that one could 'svell deem her some 
vision of an enthusiast transfigured into mortality.” 

‘‘ Well done for a parson,” said John Leisler, with a de- 
mure smile. 

“I confess to the soft impeachment,” said Coade; “but in 


CUTTING OUT WORK. 


65 


speaking of a woman, a man may be j)ardonecl if he describes 
her person, — but as you have interrupted me, I improve the 
occasion.” Then he tapped his nose and extended his 
empty mug to the bovd. The mug was filled and then 
drained by the same familiar process described. 

“ Well,” said Coade resuming, “ in those days came James, 
duke of Monmouth, on a tour of inspection of the Channel 
coast defences; and he in his turn was a young man of 
singular grace and personal beauty. His hair was of a daik 
rich auburn, such as the Vandyke school of painters are so 
fond of using, dark brown eyes, a perfect ovate face hke the 
longitudinal section of a perfectly formed egg ; and he was 
just tall enough to give his graceful person all the dignity of 
an Apollo. He stopped at Veryan, at the head of Headman’s 
bay, one of the rock bound coasts of South England. John 
Hepburn, being the only representative of nobility in that 
peninsulated Boetia of England they call Cornwall, must 
needs invite his grace to his castle, which he called the 
Hermitage. His grace came, he saw, he loved Anna Hep- 
burn, and she having never seen anything in the shape of 
manhood but rude squires, boors, miners and smuggler, 
worshiped him as the Michael of whom she read in Milton’s 
sublime j)ages — the embodiment of the beautiful, the strong, 
the brave, the purest of mortal men. 

“ His grace lingered at the Hermitage. One day when 
‘ John the silent ’ was more than unsually communicative he 
showed the duke that famous old parchment with the auto- 
graph endorsation of Louis XIV. Then Monmouth, who 
saw the weak point in Hepburn’s case, whispered in that old 
man’s ear that there was a way by which his, Hepburn’s, 
grandchildren might be dukes of Brittainy. The royal duke 
and that old man talked long together in a low tone ; then 
Monmouth went away for a few days and returned with a 
special license from the archbishop of Canterbury, com- 
manding John Coade, rector of Stanley Braugh, to many 
James Crofts to Anna Hepburn. On the margin of the 


66 


THE BUGGANEER8. 


license was written, ‘ Do as his grace directs and the deanery 
shall be yours.' This was signed ‘ Old Koulej,’ in the well 
known scroll of the king, who was known and called by 
those persons whom he made his boon companions, by the 
nick name of ‘ Old Eouley,’ and which indeed was his un- 
official signature, to which all persons about court had be- 
come accustomed. You must know I was a little ambitious, 
as sensible men should be, and had a ‘ deanery ’ on the 
brain, as old Hepburn had a dukedom. The sj)ecial license 
required one thing to make it legal — that was the signature 
of Sanscroft, the archbishop. At his grace’s suggestion, I 
put it there. Monmouth was the king’s son, and I wanted 
my deanery. Old Hepburn’s scruples, if he had any, were 
quieted by the regular orthodox formula of the license, and 
he consented to a private marriage, which for reasons of 
state, as Monmouth argued, must be concealed for a time. 
In making the registration, space was left to insert Mon- 
mouth’s title when the old king died. After all parties con- 
cerned had seen and approved the registration, I inserted 
the word ‘yeoman’ after the name, James Crofts. His grace 
the duke of Monmouth did not appear on the record. In this 
I obeyed the orders of those whom God had put over me. 
The honeymoon of the happy pair was like the courtship, 
Monmouth coming and going, not tarrying long either 
absent or present. The domestics of Hej)burn considered 
him the suitor, not the husband of their young mistress ; for 
it was in the dead of night by the light of a small wax taper 
under the chancel arch of that grand old nave, converted 
from a Koman temple to a Christian church, that I married 
that noble looking man and that most beautiful woman, who 
partially unveiled her face to utter in her sweet musical tone 
the vow that bound her to him. Oftentimes in the dead of 
night in after years in my dreams, I have seen that face un- 
veiling. But God forgive me. Let that pass. The ‘deanery’ 
was always coming, but never came. At last Monmouth 
ceased to come. Then came a rumor of his betrothal to the 


CUTTING OUT WORK, 


67 


duchess of Buccleugh; and then quickly came this document, 
brought by a messenger from the secretary of state’s office, 
and four rough looking fellows with him.” Here Coade 
drew from his bosom a soiled and faded paper on which 
was written thus : 

“London, June 1, 1671. 

“ The public safety requires that you, John Coade, transport 
yourself to the Maryland plantations, and fail not on the peril of 
your life to obey. Cabal.” 

“ The signature to this document,” continued Coade, “ is 
composed of the initial letter of the five men to whom the 
indolent and licentious Charles II. surrendered the admin- 
istration of his government, both church and state, in 
order that he might have ample time to pursue his pleas- 
ures ; and in issuing these star chamber lettres de cachet, each 
man signed his initial letter. The whole by a singular coin- 
cidence formed the significant w^ord, ‘ Cabal.’ Here you see, 
imprimis, the bold curvilinear C, of Clifford, like a cataract 
torrent sweeping and eddying around a ledge of rocks. 
Next, the regular isosceles triangle A, of Arlington, who 
weighed his words with scales, and measured his steps with 
a foot gauge. Next we have the nervous spasmodic scrawl 
of the B, of that dissipated roue, Buckingham, like some 
ugly bug climbing up a bean pole. Then the circular U, of 
Ashley, like a wheel, if like anything, which was always 
turning on the pivot, self, and always turned strong side up. 
Then the great coarse L, of Lauderdale, like an old fash- 
ioned mowers’ scythe, coarse, clumsy, but sharp and strong, 
merciless and crueL Such were the names of those five 
harpies of the star chamber of Charles II., who gorged them- 
selves with French gold and England with shame. The 
messenger who brought this billet doux, and with it suffi- 
cient force to enforce it, if necessary, also informed me that 
my clerical orders had been revoked by the archbishop of 
Canterbury, and that a ship was lying in the harbor ready 
to weigh anchor as soon as I was on board. Without a 


68 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


word more I understood tlie ^deanery case.' Silently I 
bundled up and bade my native land ‘ good night,’ a doomed 
and exiled man, punished for the greater crimes of those 
who sat in high places, but like the wounded adder which 
had one fang left, I turned and bit the heel of him who 
crushed me thus.” 

Here taking his pen, Coade wrote a copy of the mys- 
terious “ letlre de cachet ” which sent liim across the seas, 
that, but for the age of the paper on which the original was 
written, could not be distinguished from the other. 

“ You will understand,” resumed Coade, “ that after set- 
tling in this good city of the Calverts, I became lawyer, 
advocate and politician, for which I was well j)i'epared by 
my university education which, in those days, embraced 
everything. My clients in court were merry boys of the sea, 
bold boys of the highway, smugglers, and men of that ilk, 
who look upon the law as a thing to be evaded, outwitted 
and mocked to scorn. My companions were what the his- 
torian Sallust describes as the followers of Cataline — scelerati 
sacra fames auri et j^oteniice, sperantes nil credentes nil et 
timentes nil. A few years passed, and then came news of 
the Hye House plot and Monmouth’s suspicious complicity 
therein. Then came the power of the pen. I sent my 
worthy patron of the ‘deanery’ a billet doux signed ‘Cabal,’ 
with just words enough in it to cover the Eye House plot. 
Suspicious, mistrustful, betraying and betrayed, as he had 
been, he dared not enquire how or whence it came. He 
found it on his desk one fine morning. He fled to the 
Hague.. After the death of Charles II. he visited England at 
the head of a gang of refugees like himself, which he called 
the ‘liberating army of England.’ He was defeated at 
Sedgemoor, and made his exit from the political world on 
the Tower Hill, in a manner which would have been very 
impressive to us, my brethren, if we had been so over zeal- 
ous in the ‘Protestant cause of Europe’ as to have proclaimed 
the duke of Monmouth here in Saint Mary’s on the 1st day 


CUTTING OUT WORK. 


69 


of June, 1685. Had he got to London, as the prince of 
Orange has done, why then circumstances would have 
altered cases. I might have changed my deanery into a 
bishopric ; but man proposes and God disposes ! ” 

“Appropos of Monmouth,” said Chiseldine, “they say 
about here, that the girl ward of old Cancella, is Monmouth’s 
daughter.” 

“ Bah !” said Coade with a grimace of contempt ; “ that 
girl is no more Monmouth’s daughter than I am. Can- 
cella’s ward is a daughter of Julia Cojoley, who used to 
be flirting about the court, duiing the latter half of Charles 
II. ’s reign. Sir Eeginald Copley kept about him an Italian 
priest named Savelli, who was tutor to that half idiot boy, 
prince Henry, duke of Gloucester, the youngest child of 
Charles I. and whom the wily priest induced to marry Juha 
Copley, as I believe, to father his reverence’s child. But 
keep ye dark • about that girl. In the course of political 
events it may be necessary to put her in the hne of succes- 
sion. Her mother Avas married to a prince, the youngest 
brother of two kings— Charles H. and James II. — and she 
was born after marriage. That is enough to legitimatize her 
in the eyes of the law. Many dynasties in Europe are not 
quite so fortunate as that even. You shall knoAV where to 
find Monmouth’s daughter when she is wanting ; but at 
present we are at work on the case of William and Mary. 
To prepare the faithful for the work of the Lord, to be 
ready Avhen the trumpet of Zion shall blow in the streets of 
Saint Mary’s, we want money and arms — but money first- 
money last — money all the time ; and this printed docu- 
ment, brought by Capt. Kidd, throAvs out some valuable 
financial suggestions.” 

Here Coade unfolded a quaint heavily leaded newspaper 
called the ''London Gazelle’’ and read from a column thus : 

“ Legation of Spain,” Dec. 1, 1688. 

“Know all men, that by the authority of my august 
sovereign, Charles, king of Spain, the Indies and parts of 


70 


TEE BUCCANEERS. 


America, we offer a reward of one million of dollars, to be 
paid by the treasury of Spain, for the apprehension and 
dehvery to any of his Majesty’s viceroys, admirals or mihtary 
commanders, on land or sea, of one Montbars, chief of a 
piratical association, known as the ‘ Buccaneers of Tortuga 
also one million of dollars for one ‘Laurent,’ second in com- 
mand of said association ; and also one million of dollars for 
one ‘Grey Beard,’ a Buccaneer ranchero in French San 
Domingo. 

“ Given under the seal of this legation, on this 1st day of 
December, 1688. Bakrillon.'’ 

“ Three millions of dollars in the gold and silver of Sj^ain for 
the capture of three men outlawed by the civilized world,” 
said Coade, laying down the paper with something like a 
sigh, “ and that, too, by one of the sucessors of Charles Y., 
emperor of Germany, king of Spain, of Lombardy, Naples, 
Sicily; and sovereign of a grander empire beyond the seas 
than Csesar ever knew; who not one half century ago wrote 
on his escutcheon with all the sublime arrogance of a God, 
‘ et plus ultra ' — more and more beyond the pillars of Hercules- 
one third of Europe and one half of America — and lo, now 
the second empire of the Csesars is on its decline and fall. 
Let us give great glory to God for revolutions; they are 
the foot-prints of a Creator on the face of the world as it ad • 
vances to the perfection of government and law — ever 
advancing and never receding. But — enough of that. Fill 
my mug. We will to business.” 

The advertisement read by Coade was one of those palpa- 
ble signs of that awful event in Spanish history, known as 
the Decadence — the decline and fall of a second Koman 
Empire — the end of which, though near at hand, is not yet. 
Spain, sovereign of one third of modem Europe, one half 
of the old Roman Empire, who stood in the gates of 
Hercules and closed the Mediterranean sea, whose flag 
floated in gloomy triumph over those continental Islands 
that gem the tropical Atlantic, whose viceroys with more 


CUTTING OUT WORK. 


71 


than regal splendor governed one half of the continent of 
America, whose fleets of leviathan mould moved like floating 
forests over the mighty deep — that Spain was offering her 
gold, in sums enough to revenue a principality, io pur- 
chase the capture of three men — three chiefs of a flock of 
vultures j)erched on the rock of Tortuga. 

“Now, my bretheren,” resumed Coade after the pleasant 
operation of draining his mug; “this Montbars, whose 
body is worth a million of dollars to the lucky man who 
catches and safely keeps him until delivery, and who 
sometimes condescends to visit the little capital of the 
Calverts, is a Scotch refugee. Malcolm of Montbars is 
his name. During the war of the Great Rebellion his anti- 
Puritan, cavalier feats were so transcendently royal, that 
Charles II. could not compromise his popularity with his 
Presbyterian subjects of Scotland by restoring this arch 
deciple of Montrose, more particularly as Malcolm of 
Montbars never returned to ask for it. A Scotchman never 
comes home, they say. Besides, he was doing better business 
by capturing the treasure laden galleons of Spain on the 
Spanish main. Laurent’s history is a little more unique. 
Louis XIV. of France had a twin brother, .so much like 
the king that the queen, good woman, could not tell the 
difference in the dark ; dkid this was the cause of many 
awkward mistakes and no little scandal at court. To put 
an estopel on this, the king put an iron mask over his broth- 
er’s face and immured him in one of the sea coast castles 
of France. 

“ Monsieur Iron-Face had a son and four daughters — a 
prince and princesses of the royal house of France. This 
son was the handsomest and most Godless dare-devil in 
Europe. He began his career by seducing his four sisters 
who were said to be the most lovely girls about the French 
court. He was banished from France by the King and ex- 
communicated by the Pope. He was born Laurentius de 
Montmorenci— he is Laurent the Buccaneer. The third. 


72 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


Grey Beard, is my old friend John the silent, John Hepburn, 
of the Hermitage in Cornwall, with the dukedom of Brit- 
tainy on the brain, whose daughter — Monmouth’s wife, as I 
may say in truth — died in giving birth to a daughter on 
shipboard while lying in the harbor of Tortuga. They called 
the girl Nativa del Eoco, from that circumstance. She is 
known by no other name than Nativa. Hepburn bought a 
tract of land in the eastern part of French San Domingo, 
built his ranch in the forest — Boucans on land and Buc~ 
cancers on the sea. His grand-daughter has grown up like 
a beautiful Diana of the Hellenic mythology. Her father’s 
Apollo like person is miniatured in his daughter’s graceful 
stature. Her face is the transfiguration of her mother’s 
soul in all its loyehness and purity. 

“ Hepburn’s buccaneering, old as he is, was of most daring 
and successful character. He made his debut in the Buc- 
caneering line by taking a Spanish galleon loaded -with 
gold and silver ingots, with an open boat of twenty-six oars. 
He has loaned the king of France three million pounds 
sterling, to carry on his continental wars ; and it is likely 
that the “ grand monarque” may some fine day have an 
audience with one who holds in one hand an old patent for 
a dukedom, and in the other a French loan bond which will 
strain the treasury of France. 'He sometimes takes his 
grand-daughter on a cruise. She is as fearless as she is 
beautiful. The old Buccaneer salts call her the good angel 
of Buccaneers, from the fact that every cruise which she 
has accompained has proved to be a lucky one ; and they 
worship her with a superstitious awe peculiar to sailors. 
She is the only human being that could ever cowe Laurent. 

“ My plan of operation is based upon the abduction of 
Nativa as she roams about that gi'and old forest with no 
other attendants than her dogs — leave a trail for old Hepburn 
to foUow, which he will do. Laurent will follow on the same 
hne because he loves the girl in his peculiar style, simply 
because she does not love him, but more probably because 


CUTTING OUT WORK, 


73 


she is the only woman he ever met that he could not seduce. 
Thus we will bag two millions at least. But nothing in this 
is to be construed that we must not get aU we can from other 
quarters. The details of the abduction is left with brother 
Kidd.” 

“ I have it all here,” said Kidd, tapping his forehead with 
his fingers. 

“ The next items,” said Coade, looking at his manuscript, 
“ are arms and munitions of war — muskets, piltes, sabres, pis- 
tols, etc. Well, it came to j^ass on the 26th of December last, 
just five days ago, that his excellency, the lieutenant-govern- 
or, Philip Calvert, loitered in here and assisted me in empty- 
ing a bowl of tiff uncommonly hot and strong. That night 
there went forth from the Crown and Mitre an order to 
sheriff Payne to collect and deposit in the arsenal, all arms 
issued to the militia of this county. Yesterday, as you 
know, the sheriff was shot in the discharge of his duty by 
one Thomas Wingate, a fanatical Papist ; which is strong 
evidence of the disloyal tendencies of that sect — a significant 
fact — which is duly set forth at length in our petition to 
their majesties — in blank. Had the arms been collected 
and deposited we could have got them at olie grab. As it 
is we must get them by distinct detachments, acting timely 
and simultaneously. We have gained a disloyal character 
for the Papists. So far, so good. We stand ready so soon as 
parliament makes one dynasty by breaking of another, to 
grasp — poivei' ! Yes, power — that sweet delusion of the 
human heart — for which princes subdue and priests deceive 
mankind, for which angels fall and emj)ires crumble into 
dust. Thus it will ever be, as the dark waters of the Nile 
will ever roll from that undiscovered source in that central 
pre-Adamite cradle of another race. Pyramids and temples 
will fall, religions will change their faces, and races will 
change their places, but the Nile flows on — and so the human 
heart wiU ever pour out its blood, its life, for power ! ” 

At this moment the door was opened by mine host, J ack 


74 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


Jeffries, who, with the low bow of a well-bred Boniface, in- 
formed “ Worshipful master, Coade, that a messenger from 
the Castle had brought a letter for his worship — ^was it his 
worship’s pleasure to admit the messenger?” 

Upon receiving an approving nod he withdrew with another 
low bow, and soon returned ushering in a servant from the 
castle, aforesaid, bearing in his hand a large official letter 
addressed to “ John Coade, Esq.,” which he put into that 
worthy gentleman’s hands and withdrew, followed by mine 
host of the Crown and Mitre. 

Closing the door after him, Coade read the letter, and 
then burst into a roar of obstreperous laughter. “ ’Fore 
God,” said he, smiting the table with his knuckles, “ who of 
you would have supposed that ‘ His excellency, Philip Cal- 
vert, Lieut. Governor of the province ad interim’ would 
have joined the ‘ lords anointed,’ at such a reasonable time ? 
What think ye, brethren, of this ?” And then he read as fol- 
lows : 

“Proprietary House, Jan. 1, 1689. 
“To John Coade, Esq. — Greeting: 

“ You are herewith appointed high sheriff of Saint Maiy’s 
county, vice Thomas Payne deceased. If you accept this 
appointment you wiU without delay collect all arms and mili- 
taiy equipments in the hands of the militia of this county 
and them safely keep until his lordship’s pleasui'e to the con- 
trary be known. This commission to continue in force until 
lawfully revoked. “ Philip Calvert, 

Lieut. Gov. 

“ J. Lewson, Secretary.” 

“Why, what do we think, — say you?” 

Said Leisler, with a quiet smile, “ That his Excellency is 
either a sharper man or greater dunce than I took him to be.” 

“ Be that as it may — I understand the complication,” said 
Coade, tapping his ruby nose with his forefinger. “We ac- 
cept — we collect — we safely keep — ^the arms for the glory 
of God — and the public weal. Now for the last round and 


CUTTING OUT WORK. 


75 


a paHing song, till we four meet again. Let it be that bat- 
tle cry of the Lord which has swept Prelacy from the moors 
and highland’s of Scotland, which shall wake the people of 
Saint Mary’s up some fine morning before day dawns.” 

The four, after moistening their throats with the exhilira- 
ting fluid of the last round, pealed forth in mellow sten- 
torian chorus, the following song : 


“ To battle ! to battle ! 

To slaughter and strife; 

For a sad, broken convenant 
We barter poor life. 

The Great God of Judah 
Shall smite with our hands; 

Break down the idols 
That cumber the lands. 

Uplift every voice, 

In prayer and sorg; 

Ecmember the battle 
Is not to the strong. 

Lo! the Ammonites thicken; 
Onward they come ! 

To the vain noise of trumpet, 
Cymbal and drum. 

They hasten to onslaught, 
Withhagbut and spear — ; 

They lust for a banquet 
That is deathful and dear. 

Now horseman and footman 
Sweep down the hillside — 

They come like fiqrce Pharaohs, 
To die in their pride. 

See long plume and pennon. 
Stream gay in the air; 

They are given us for slaughter— 
Shall God’s people spare? 

Nay! nay! lop themclT, 

Friend, father and son! 

All earth is athirst till 
The good work is done. 


76 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


Brace tight every buckler, 
Lift high the sword. 

For biting must blades be 
That fight for the Lord. 


Remember, remember, 

How saints’ blood was shed. 
As free as rain, and 
Homes desolate made. 

Among them— among them 
Unburied bones cry, 

‘ Avenge us, or like us. 
Faith’s true martyrs, diel’ 


Hew down the spoilers ! 

Slay on and spare none ! 
Then shout forth in gladness 
Heaven’s battle is won !” 


The song ended, — the bowl emjitied, — this “ secret com- 
mittee of public safety,” as they styled themselves, who had 
been holding their annual sessions at the Crown and Mitre 
on New Year day ever since the accession of James II., 
separated to meet again at the same time and place on the 
first day of January, 1690, unless sooner called together 
by circumstances already provided for — and each went his 
way, as the great bell in the State House dome toUed 
away the last hour of that New Year day of 1689. 

Who, then, could lift the veil of futurity and see, ere a 
decade completed that most eventful century, J ohn Coade 
dying drunk in a ditch on the highway ; the elegant and 
crafty John Leisler hanging* before his own door to fulfill a 
traitor’s fate and expiate a traitor’s doom ; the dry bones of 
Kidd, the pirate, bleaching in the sun and swinging on 
chains as the winds swept over Boston commons ; and 
Kenelm Chiseldine shivering Avith the chill of neglected old 
age and bending under his load of rags to beg his last 
morsel of charity from the hands of a priest whose church 
he had persecuted and Avhose spiritual children he had slain ? 


CAPE IIEXPr. 


V 

But ere the dark curtain fell on the last act, on the last 
scene, these four men and many greater than they, with 
whom the}^ are historically connected, had performed their 
parts on the life-stage of that most eventful period of 
English history, known as the “ Beign of William the III.’’ 


CHAPTER Y. 

CAPE HENRY. 

The waves of the Atlantic ocean and the tidal current of 
the Chesapeake bay have thrown up a range of sand hills 
terminating in an obtuse point — and this is cape Henr}". 
At the junction of the bay with the ocean on the south side 
of this point, just where the sand hills begin to slope down 
with a hard, gravelly beach to the water’s edge, there stood in 
1689 a lonely house by the sea side. 

This dwelling, in spite of its coarse adobe walls of lime, 
gravel and comminuted rock, was sufficiently unique to 
arrest the attention of a stranger. In the first place, a vane, 
surmounted by a ducal coronet, arose proudly from one of 
its gables ; and then a brick stable, recently erected, neat in 
design and solid in construction, which would have accorded 
with a manor park, presented a singular contrast to the 
place with which it was but an outwork. The dwelling was 
built upon a square terrace or pedestal, faced with dressed 
granite, the interior of which was the basement room or 
kitchen of the house. 

Cape Henry at this period of colonial history was never 
voluntarily visited by travellers, in consequence of the un- 
happy character of an association of men calling themselves 
“ Wreckers,” who had acquired sole and undisputed posses- 
sion of it, under the license of the disastrous reigns of the 
Stuarts. 


78 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


Fierce and sanguinary in their greed of gain, pitiless and 
remorseless in the commission of theft or murder, the 
wreckers of the cape, so different from the other Virginia 
colonists, never granted the rites of hospitality to the ill- 
starred stranger who fell into their hands, hut with the 
mental reservation of murder and treacheiy. 

The means of existence which these wretches possessed at 
this time were precarious. At first, fishing and smuggling 
added to their means, until hy degrees their treachery and 
ferocity amerced them of these means. All beyond their 
pale feared to have any business relations with such outlaws. 
The right of “ Jetsom and Flotsam,” which, under the law 
of England, appertained to the coast of the Atlantic, had in 
time become their only resource — a revenue of blood con- 
genial to their habits and tastes. 

The wrecks which the tempest casts upon their bleak and 
inhospitable shore became their property under this right, 
and, by a perversion of this law, the wreckers claimed as 
wrecks ships which were merely stranded on the coast, 
which, bristling with submarine rocks and ever storm lashed, 
is fertile in shipwrecks and yielded to the wreckers a rich 
harvest for their equivocal occupation. Why recite the 
sickening details of those diabolical ruses by which they 
aided the fury of the storm ? 

It is well known that, upon the approach of a storm at 
night, they drove along the coast herds of oxen with lanterns 
on their horns, and their forefeet trameled so as to cause 
them to limp. This combination at a distance has the ap- 
pearance of a fleet under sail. The unlucky mariners be- 
lieve they have the open sea before them up to the instant 
they are hurled upon the rocks. 

Then comes the horrible cruelties they perpetrate upon the 
shipwrecked, from which the pen recoils. They cast back 
into the sea the dead, which the more merciful waves of the 
ocean threw into their hands living. 

The physical geography of cape Henry presents a scene 


CAPE HEXPT. 


79 


in strict accordance with the character of the brigands who 
held undisputed possession of it until the strong arm of 
William III. crushed them. Grand in gloom and sterility, 
seaward the eye meets the foaming billows of the ocean, 
landward the roUing billows of sand, and beyond them the 
dark pine forest rolls and surges in the wind like gathering 
masses of a storm cloud. 

The first fioor of this cottage which we have seen by the 
sea side was divided into two apartments, a sleeping room 
and saloon. Possibly the word saloon is an incongruous ex- 
pression to designate one of the two rooms of a cottage. It 
is used for want of a better. 

In this scantily furnished apartment sat a young man in a 
large chair before an oak table, covered with charts and 
maps, thrown pell meU one on the other, in an attitude of 
intense meditation. His age was between twenty-two and 
twenty-three years. He was not one of those fair, delicate 
figures so popular in drawing rooms. On the contrary, his 
complexion was bronzed by the open air and the free 
breezes from the sea, and his person was the perfection of 
masculine strength.' His black hair of snken delicacy, 
parted along the median line of the cranium fell, partially 
concealing a brow more prominent than elevated, in a pro- 
fuse mass of tresses upon his shoulders, like that of the 
Amazonian queen we read of in the ^niad of Yirgil. His 
eyes were black and piercing, and at a glance could awe an 
enemy or look danger out of countenance. His lips were 
rather thick than thin and, when slightly parted, displayed 
a bright carnation tint which contrasted harmoniously with 
the ivory whiteness of a double row of delicate teeth. His 
statue was about six feet. He was half Hercules, half 
Apollo. The muscular development of his neck, shoulders 
and limbs, were Herculean. They tapered off with the sym- 
metry we see in the statues where great personal strength 
is blended with grace. 

He called himself Ismail Malcolm. He was called wreck- 


80 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


master of the cape. He was feared and hated by the 
wreckers for reasons which duly appear. 

It was about six o’clock in the afternoon of the 1st day of 
June, 1689, after a very hot day, that the lowering atmos- 
phere, charged with electricity, announced a storm. There 
came a terrific peal of thunder, like a battery of artillery, 
reechoing along the coast and rebounding from rock to 
rock and dying away over the sand hills. 

Malcolm, as if to drive some absorbing idea from his 
brain, drew his hand across his brow and, springing from 
his seat, advanced to the window, which commanded a view 
of the ocean ; but scarcely had he leant his elbow upon the 
rude window siU when a strange and unaccountable sound, 
rising above the roar of the surf as it fell upon the beach, 
fiUed the air. It was like the stifled roaring of an enraged 
lion at a distance. 

The face of the young man turned a shade paler ; and 
with a compressed lij) he began to promenade with quick 
and nervous steps across the room and, each time he passed, 
paused to glance at a pair of richly decorated pistols hang- ^ 
ing on the wall. His contracted brow showed too weU that 
his thoughts were turned on deeds of violence. 

At length he opened a door of the room, and from the top 
of a narrow rickety stairway uttered, in a voice whose clarion 
notes denoted the prerogative of command, the name of 
“ Jalman.” 

Quicldy the yawing steps of the stairway creaked, swayed 
and trembled iinder the pressure of a pair of large, coarse, 
horny feet, and Jalman Vaughn — the servant of Malcolm — 
appeared. Jalman Avas nearly the same age as his master, 
and in every acceptation of the term a true son of Erin and 
a sailor. He Avas Ioav and stout, broad and quare. His 
toilet was exceedingly simple— a red flannel shirt, free and 
loose, a pair of loose trowsers reaching to the knee and con- 
fined at the Avaist with a leather belt, and red worsted net 
cap. He wore no shoes or stockings — they Avere useless ap- 


CAPE HENRY. 


81 


pendages. His hard horny feet and legs set thorns, shells, 
rocks, snow, and icicles at defiance. Sooty, unkempt hair 
fell in snarly knots about his face. He might have been 
taken for a Celt, just creeping out of his cave after a sleep of 
a thousand years. Upon entering the room he mechanically 
took oif his worsted cap and awaited the orders of his 
master. 

“Is the canoe in trim for sea service?” inquired Malcolm. 

“ If you wish it, it will be ready in an hour,” rephed Jal- 
man, scratching his head with a puzzled air : “ but I hope 
you do not intend to use it to-night. 

“Why not to-night. Mister Yaughn?” 

The expression “Mister Vaughn” appeared to nettle the 
servant, who tartly replied j “A man must have lost his 
wits to go but to-night when the monk is shrieking loud 
enough to be heard at Newbern. It is defying God and 
the saints. Hush — listen ! ” 

Scarcely had he uttered these words when that noise, 
strange and startling, so like the stifled roaring of an en- 
raged lion at a distance, burst upon them with redoubled 
fury. 

Master and servant gazed at each other in silence. 

“What say you to that?” at length asked Jalman. 

“ I say,” replied Malcolm, “ that if I delay my departure 
one hour, to-morrow’s dawn will see the coast covered with 
wrecks and dead bodies.” 

A bright smile beamed upon the unwashed face of Jal- 
man. That smile was not lost upon his master. 

“Look you, sirrah,” said he, “if I did not know you to 
be a good and faithful servant, that significant smile would 
cost you dear. Wretch, are you not ashamed to aid the 
remorseless fury of the storm at sea, by murdering, to rob, 
its victims?” 

Jalman Yaughn heard this outburst, to which he was 
accustomed, with com^^osure ; and then replied, “ You will 
not beat me. Master, because you are too much of a gentle- 


82 


THE BUCCAEEEBS. 


man to do that. To abuse what Almighty God sends would 
shame your humanity, according to my fashion of viewing 
things. But to argue with you is useless, since the truth 
simply puts you in a rage.” 

The coolness of the man disarmed the gentleman. “ Speak 
freely, Jalman,” said he, “ and I will listen patiently.” 

“ AVell, then,” replied the domestic, rubbing his hands, “ I 
have been itching a long time to tell j^ou the naked truth. 
In the first place, you must know that every man on the 
cape hates you bitterly, and you are execrated along the 
whole sea coast.” 

“ What have I done to incur this odium ? ” exclaimed 
Malcolm. 

“ Why,” said Jalman, you pay no respect to the customs 
of the community which usage for three generations has 
made a right ; and you oppose the appropriation of the 
mercies of God.” 

“ But the customs are horrible and atrocious.” 

“ To a certain extent they are not,” replied the persistent 
Jalman, “ since God wills it. Apropos to yourself, the boys 
say ycu are a gentleman, and give yourself airs — you who 
at fourteen were the best wrestler and marksman on the 
cape — now amuse yourself with drawing charts and maps, 
painting storm-clouds and hurricanes, the sea in its various 
moods, and women — in a word, transferring to canvas what 
you see in the day and dream at night. But I will hush up. 
I am only vexing you for nothing.” 

“ No, no, go on,” replied Malcolm. 

“Well, then, they say,” continued Jalman, “that you pay 
no respect to Good Fridays — you scoff at the weird holies 
and witches and penetential spirits who haunt the morasses 
and lagoons.” 

“ It is true,” replied Malcolm, “I do not believe in ghosts 
or witches, and I will never, of my own free will, put to sea 
on a Friday or thirteenth of the month.” 

“ So far so good,” continued Jalman; “but to deny the ex- 


CAPE HENRY. 


83 


istence of weird holies or wandering afflicted souls is rank 
infidelity. But nevertheless I believe the boys would over- 
look your skepticism if you would respect customs and give 
no more assistance to ships in distress.” 

“ I will assist the boys in everything that is right and law- 
ful, but I will never be their accomplice in murder and rob- 
bery,” rej)lied Malcolm, wfith emphasis. “I was born a 
gentleman and a Christian before I became a wrecker. 
When I was appointed wreckmaster by the governor of Vir- 
ginia, I had a duty to perform, and I have done it. If any 
one of them disapprove of my conduct let him come to me 
with his complaint.” 

“There is no likelihood of that,” replied Jalman; “they 
well know that if you tell one of them that he is a robber 
and shall be punished, that man is lucky if he gets off with 
whole bones. But you will some day feel their teeth ; so 
be on your guard.” 

“ I have been on my guard this many a day, Jalman,” re- 
plied Malcolm, pensively. “ I have never failed to observe 
the scowling looks of the boys whenever I put to sea on the 
eve of a storm. Henceforth we will always go armed — I 
with my pistols, you with your hatchet.” 

“ What madness, my Master,” exclaimed Jalman. “ You 
so brave, so accomplished, can you not understand that, what 
the mercy of God sends to us is a sacred thing ? ” 

“ You refuse to follow me ! Then I will go without you,” 
replied Malcolm. 

“ Sir Ismail Malcolm,” replied Jalman with emotion, “what 
have I done to deserve this reprimand ? You have lived so 
long in the land of dreams that the plain truth offends you. 
I am ready to go with you. If any of the boys should op- 
pose us, which is quite likely, and you see Bill Croshav,r 
among them, -pin him, for he is the very blackguard that 
sets the whole of Wrecktown against you.” 

“ And yet you have never thought of giving him his 
quietus,” replied Malcolm with a slight sneer. 


84 


THE BUCCANEEBS. 


“Your pardon sir,” replied Jalman, “I have already 
had six fights with him on your account ; but we are un- 
fortunately too well matched, and I have not been lucky 
enough to settle him. But in those six fights I have only 
lost three teeth to his four. It will all come right in time, 
I hope.” 

“Enough of idle words,” replied Malcolm abruptly. “ Get 
the canoe ready while I go to the observatory to see if there 
are any ships in sight. The storm wall be up before an 
hour.” 

Notwithstanding the peremptory order Jalman stood 
unmoved. 

“WeU sir, did you not hear me?” enquired Malcolm. 

“ Perfectly,” said Jalman ; “but before getting the canoe 
ready I have another duty to fulfill, and ask a short liberty 
to do so.” 

“ What is that duty ?” 

“ To burn a wax taper in the church at Wrecktown for the 
success of our expedition this evening.” 

“ Will you swear you speak the truth ? ” 

“ I swear it.” 

“Then in that case,” continued Malcolm, “I give you a 
half hour, and here is a half crown to assist your pious exer- 
tions. Be off.” 

Jalman eagerly clutched the coin, cleared the door at a 
bound and set off at full speed towards the village of Wreck- 
town, which was built in the pine forest beyond the sand 
hills ; and though the distance from his master’s house to 
the village was four miles or more he was hardly ten 
minutes on his way. 

This village deserved its name. The houses built of the 
timbers and spars, and roofed with the canvass, of wrecked 
ships, clustered around a dilapidated old church built by 
Gomez, the Spanish navigator, in gratitude for rescue from 
shipwreck on the cape, and dedicated to St. Patrick, be- 
cause the event occurred on the day of the nativity of that 


CAPE HENRY. 


85 


saint — the seventeenth of the stormy month of March. 

As soon as Jalman arrived he entered the church and re- 
quested the sacristan, a silent, ghostly looking old man, to 
light for him a simple wax taper. This taper, slender as a 
pack thread and five inches long, cost a penny. 

Jalman knelt, crossed himself with devotion and prayed 
in a low tone, “ Grant, merciful Lord, and you, good Saint 
Patrick, that if my master and myself put to sea this night, 
as he intends to do, no evil happen to us.” 

Scarcely had he uttered these words when the taper, 
already consumed, went out. Jalman then requested the 
sacristan to light two double wax tapers at three pemiies a 
piece ; then knelt again and prayed, “ Grant merciful Lord, 
and you good Saint Patrick, that some unforeseen event 
may prevent my master from putting to sea.” 

Seeing that the tapers continued to burn brightly he con- 
tinued, “ Grant merciful Lord, and you good Saint Patrick, 
that the stprm may cast many ships upon the rock to-night, 
and that I may break the head of Bill Croshaw the next 
time I fight with him.” 

Two seconds more the tapers burnt out. Jalman arose 
delighted, paid the sacristan and then sped from the 
church with the same impetuosity with which he came. 

4 


CHAPTEPt VI. 

ABDALLAH LEGOFFE. 

As Jalman was rounding the base of a sand hill, half way 
between the church and his master’s house, he violently 
collided with a horseman coming from an opposite direction, 
with a force that threw the eager pedestrian flat on his back, 
and which caused the startled animal to rear and plunge, to 


86 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


the partial unseating of its rider. Then came a simultane- 
ous exclamation of rage and anger from the lips of both as 
each criminated the other. 

“ Stupid lout ! ” exclauned the cavalier, reining in his 
prancing steed. 

“Blackguard!” retorted Jalman, rubbing his bruised 
slioulder, “ is it to ride over a servant of the king’s officer 
that ye are after.” 

“ No insolence, fellow 1 ” exclaimed the cavalier, checking 
with one hand his snorting and plunging steed and carrying 
the other to his pistol holster. 

The valor of the pious and sturdy son of Erin had a large 
instalment of worldly discretion, and he always avoided a 
fight, unless he saw, or thought he saw, a reasonable chance 
of success. But when he saw none he quietly assumed an 
air of meek stolidity, and j)atiently awaited the hour of retali- 
ation and vengeance. The sight of the richly mounted pis- 
tol convinced liim instanter that his cudgel was of no use, 
and he instantly assumed the stolid air of a simjfieton, with 
open mouth. 

His formidable adversary smiled and returned his pistol. 
“Come my lad,” said he, “I see you are a true son of the 
' coast.’ No more of that ; you cannot pass yourself on me 
for a fool. I understand all the tricks of your worthy asso- 
ciation. I have lived one month in Rogue Harbor, North 
Carolina, and never lost a penny. Be smart ; I have some 
questions to ask you.” 

However disconcerted Jalman may have felt, he continued 
to play his part. His idiotic air became more stolid. He 
stared if possible more intently and appeared not to under- 
stand one word he heard. At this pantomime the cavaher 
roared with laughter. Taking from his pocket a half crown, 
he- presented it to Jalman, who, after a slight hesitation, 
eagerly clutched it. 

“ Ah, ha ! you brighten like Balaam’s ass,” exclaimed the 
cavalier, with another loud guffaw. 


ABDALLAH LEGOFFE. 37 

“ Wliat more do you want,” said Jalman tartly, and mak- 
ing a move to go away. 

“ That move tickles me wonderfully, my lad,” replied the 
stranger. “Nothing much, only plain answers to simple 
questions.” 

“Was it for that you gave me the crown? ” asked Jalman. 
“ Say on then, I am listening.” 

“ You are from Wrecktown,” continued the cavalier, “ and 
of course are acquainted with master Ismail Malcolm — is it 
not so?” 

Jalman was startled at hearing a stranger utter the name 
of his master. However he suffered no emotion to escape 
him. “ Yes, I know the master Ismail Malcolm, as all others 
know him,” said he after a pause. 

“ Well, what sort of a man is he ? ” 

“ A man just like all other men.” 

“ I admire your prudence. Your answers wiU not com- 
promise you,” said the cavaher with a smile. 

“Well, what would you have?” replied Jalman. “I 
answer as you ask. I am an uneducated man, who only 
understands things simple and plain. But I am in a hurry 
and must leave you.” 

“ You are wrong,” coolly replied the stranger. “ I was 
about to give you another half crown.” 

“Well give it — I have just time to receive it.” 

“ No,” replied the stranger, putting the coin back in his 
pocket. “Upon reflection I will keep the mone}^ for the 
flrst lad I meet who can give me more precise information 
about master Malcolm than you appear to possess.” 

These words transformed Jalman into his natural self. 
“ No one is better acquainted with master Malcolm than I — 
his servant,” replied Jalman, after a moment’s hesitation. 
“Be quick, my moments are numbered.” 

“Ah! you are his servant, are you? And you did not 
say so — that’s queer,” s^iid the stranger. 

“ You did not ask me,” replied Jalman. 


88 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


“All, true, true,” replied tlie stranger. “Well, what is 
your master’s character ?” 

“ My master is a good Christian.” 

The stranger scowled at Jalman and exclaimed in a 
choleric tone, “ Explain yourself. What mean those words?” 

“I call things by their names,” replied Jalman. “I mean 
that my master is a good Christian because he is kind and 
generous to the poor, gentle as a lamb to children and 
women, and fierce as a tiger with ruffians.” 

This explanation appeared to give keen delight to the 
stranger. His brows relaxed, and he smiled like a sun- 
beam. “ So the Malcolm,” continued, he “ is a brave lad, 
and always equal to the emergency.” 

If you have come to the cape to pick a quarrel with 
him,” replied Jalman, “ you could well afford to give me two 
crowns for my advice to keep clear of him; for, I assure you, 
you could not invest your money more profitably.” 

“ He is a hard wrestler, that boy ?” said the stranger. 

“ Hard wrestler indeed,” replied Jalman. “ There is not 
his equal along the whole Atlantic coast. Bill Croshaw and 
I are counted number-one in the wrestling line. One day, 
to please my master, I wrestled with him. He grasped me 
with such force that my bones cracked ; and had it not 
been for my respect for him and the training I have had, I 
should have bawled out like a scalded cat.” 

“ Well, teU me,” said the cavalier lowering his tone, “ has 
he many mistresses?” 

At this interrogatory Jalman reddened and gazed at the 
stranger with a pair of glittering eyes. “If you fancy to 
yourself that you can slander my master in my presence,” 
said he, “you are mistaken; though I have but my cudgel 
to your pistols. But by the holy mother of God, try that 
again — then defend yourself.” 

The stranger, so far from being displeased at this demon- 
stration, appeared to be delighted., “Don’t worry yourself, 
my lad,” said he, after an explosive laugh. “ Here is the half 


ABDALLAH LEGOFFR 39 

crown I promised you. I will detain you no longer. Wliicli 
is the best inn at Wrecktown ?” 

There is no inn in Wrecktown,” replied Jalman. 

“ Thank you. As there is no inn, I will lodge in the first 
house I come to,” replied the stranger. 

“ If 5"ou will take an honest man’s advice,” replied Jal- 
man, “you will not lodge anywhere at the cape. A man 
who scatters his coin as you do should never come here.” 

“ Oh, I am au fait with coast hospitality,” said the strang- 
er, upon whom the caution of Jalman seemed to produce 
no effect whatever. “ I can take care of number one.” 

A terrific ]3eal of thunder interrupted any further conver- 
sation. The two men separated, the one to seek shelter and 
the other to rejoin his master, whom he met taking a short 
promenade on the sand-beach. 

Jalman had unbounded confidence in the sacrifice of the 
wax tapers, and was not surprised, on rejoining his master, 
to learn from him that, having seen no ships off the cape, he 
should not go out that night. 

Jalman, while exulting in the idea that his first prayer 
had been so promptly responded to, had no doubt but that 
the second would follow as a matter of course, and that be- 
fore day the coast would be strewn with wreckage; and 
hastened to put himself under the shelter of his roof-tree 
before the storm should burst, the advent of which was al- 
ready announced by large and sparse drops of rain. 

Indeed scarcely had Malcolm and his domestic crossed the 
doorsill of their dwelling when the storm came on in all its 
terrific fury. 

It was seven o’clock in the afternoon. Malcolm, standing 
at the window of his saloon, gazed with a saddened eye 
upon the ocean, sublime and terrible in its rage ; and sad were 
his reflections. “ That ocean is the mirror in which I be- 
hold my heart,” said he, “ lashed into fury by the breath of 
the storm. As my heart is frenzied by the breath of pas- 
sion, visionary dreams, audacious projects, bright hopes of 


90 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


youtla, reckless ambition, wbicli have by turns intoxicated 
and crushed my heart, have at last shipwrecked my soul. 
How much have I already hoped and suffered ? The ocean, 
when unchained, leaves at least the foot-prints of its wrath, 
while I, crushed by the humility of my position and my iso- 
lation, have not even the power to control the destiny of the 
least of mankind. I am to society what a grain of sand is 
to creation — an atom without weight. "What human being 
has one tie of kindred sympathy with me ? None. Who 
would weep over my grave ? None. Yet all the passions 
of love and hatred are rife within me. I feel within me 
that indomitable inspiration of power and will, which ever 
elevate a man above the masses. But I must have a ful- 
crum for m}^ lever. That must be my fellow man — and alas ! 
none cai^ for me. Wreckmaster of the cape — hated, cursed, 
despised by the very wretches among whom my lot is cast, 
because I will not be a murderer and robber ! How long 
must I sit in darkness here, to await the good angel ? ” 

At this moment he was startled by a violent knocking at 
the door of the saloon. Superstitious by nature and educa- 
tion he thought for the moment that God had sent the an- 
gel for whom he .prayed. It was with a sinking of the heart 
that he saw Jalman. 

“ Master,” said the servant, “ here is a stranger who asks 
shelter for himself and his horse.” 

“Put the horse in the stable,” replied Malcolm, and tell 
the stranger that he is welcome to such hospitality as my 
poor house will afford. But stay — I will receive him in 
person.” 

“No occasion for that. Master; he is here without waiting 
for your invitation.” 

As the servant uttered these words the stranger entered 
the room — the same whom we have seen in the interview 
with Jalman on his return from the church. After survey- 
ing the saloon with a coup Hosil he said, “ Master Malcolm, 
presuming that my wet clothes would be an introduction, I 


ABDALLAH LEGOFFK 


91 


have come to claim your hospitality.” This brusque pre- 
sentation somewhat annoyed the host, who, concealing liis 
vexation, replied with frigid pohteness, “There is no neces- 
sity for introduction, sir. My duty and my honor require 
me to open my doors to all who ask of me the rites of hos- 
pitality.” 

“A duty it may be; but as to honor, that is quite an- 
other thing,” rephed the stranger unceremoniously shak- 
ing the water from his dripping felt hat. “ You would 
be liable to receive very disagreeable guests. But, upon 
reflection, I think that, as this part of Virginia is so seldom 
visited by amateur travellers, your generosity will be 
rarely put to trial. What ugly weather — permit me, I will 
take a seat — one might say that chaos — but hush — what 
strange noise is that which rises above the roar of the wind 
and waves ?” 

“ It is the Monk’s chant,” replied Malcolm, who began to 
be chafed at the graceless manners of his guest. 

“The Monk’s chant — what is that?” eagerly asked the 
stranger. 

“A few words will explain,” said Malcolm. “Near the 
edge of the channel three boulder rocks support a fourth 
like the three legs of a stool. The upper rock is a hideous, 
grotesque caricature of a human skull. Some years ago 
some of the wreckers put a lantern on the top of this rock 
at night as a storm was coming up ; a ship bound to Saint 
Mary’s was dashed upon it. The next morning the only sur- 
vivor of the wreck — a priest — was seen kneeling upon this 
rock chanting the Be Frqfundis and prayers for the dead. 
He Avas shortly afterwards washed off and drowned. Tradi- 
tion has it that this monk is still under the rocks and chants 
his terrible requiem for the dead at the approach of a storm. 
But the phenomenon can be explained in a very simple 
manner. At low tide the windage spaces between the per- 
pendicular rocks allow a free passage to the air currents ; 
but as the tide rises the rent is reduced ; as the wind in- 


92 


TEE BUCCANEERS. 


creases, as it always does when a storm comes on, the monk 
begins his chant, first with a distant booming sound like 
rolling thunder ; with the rise of the water it becomes a 
roar and finally a shriek.” 

“ I am really astonished to find a wrecker giving a philo- 
sophical explanation to a natural phenomenon,” said the 
stranger, after a roar of obstreperous laughter ; “ for it 
must be confessed that the brethren of the coast are ridicu- 
lously superstitious.” 

Malcolm required all his coolness and self possession to 
refrain from releasing himself from the obligations of hospi- 
tality, which his uninvited guest would richly have deserved. 
Nevertheless he could not but regard with more attention 
’than hitherto the man who apj)eared to be too boorish to 
appreciate his position. 

This man, aged about fifty years, clad in the costume of 
the seventeenth century, such as easy farmers or wealthy 
traders wore, presented no striking personal characteristic. 
His complexion was tanned dark ; his expression was unim- 
pulsive ; his face was rectangular and his head was large ; 
his person was stout — statue about five feet five inches — and 
he wore no beard. His physiognomy was rather pleasant 
and jovial than impertinent or boisterous, as one would infer 
from his conversation and manners. 

“He is a poor ill-bred man,” thought Malcolm, “and it is 
useless for me to be ceremonious with him.” 

The stranger, without appearing to notice the scrutiny of 
which he was the subject, left his seat and began to examine 
every object in the room. “Hello, master!” exclaimed he 
at length, halting before a long carbine hanging by two nails 
to the wall, “ here is a queer outlandish weapon — such as I 
have never seen before. What the devil can it be for ? To 
shoot sea fowl, I suppose. Will you permit me ; ” and with- 
out waiting for a reply took down the carbine and began a 
critical examination of it. 

“ That gun was manufactured by Gilen, of Nantes, as you 


ABDALLAH LEQOFFE. 93 

will see,” replied Malcolm, complacently, with a view of 
humoring the style of his guest. “ It is of very long range, 
and rarely seen or used either in Europe or America.” 

“ Where then ? ” replied the stranger. 

“ About two thousand miles from here — in the Antilles.” 

“ Ah, yes ; I know,” replied the stranger ; “ a beautiful 
country — those Antilles — a mid-ocean Paradise, where the 
harvest — the food of man — is the spontaneous product of 
the soil, grown without being sown, and gathered without 
tod.” 

“ Have you been in the islands ? ” asked Malcolm. 

“Me? What a joke! lam a horse drover — have seen 
no part of the world except where I have traded. One of 
my cousins has lived in the Antilles these ten years, and he 
told me how things go on there. Prom what he says every 
man does well and gets ric]j there who has a steady hand, a 
keen eye, and no fear of the Devil.” 

“ You have a cousin who has lived ten years in the An- 
tilles ? ” said Malcolm, pausing between each word as if he 
weighed them in the balance of his mind. “ Tell me — ^has 
he succeeded ? ” 

“ Succeeded ? Well, I think so,” replied the stranger with 
a smile. “When he left home his whole fortune consisted of 
one guinea and one suit of clothes. Now he is worth one 
hundred thousand pounds sterling and rides in his carriage.” 

“ He has been lucky indeed,” replied Malcolm with a sigh. 

“ Certainly lucky,” replied the stranger. “ Everybody is 
lucky there. If I were young I would not hesitate to work 
my passage before the mast to get there, as my cousin did 
ten years ago. Zounds, man ; at your age, why do you not 
do so too. I do not know you, it is 'true, but it only 
requires a single glance at your establishment here to see 
that fortune has not smiled rf^^on you. You look like a man 
at war with society. Keep cool, I mean no offense. I am a 
plain, blunt man, who speaks what he thinks. Does the hfe 
you lead comport with the activity of your temperament and 


94 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


youth ? How can a man of your age bury himself like an 
owl in a lonely old wreck of a hovel standing on the divid- 
ing line between a Sahara of land and a Sahara of water ? I 
would at least turn hermit of / the desert ; then one could 
define your position and find a term to designate your pro- 
fession.” 

‘‘ I am a gentleman, sir,” replied Malcolm haughtily, think- 
ing thus to cut off any further impertinences of his guest. 
But this hope was annihilated by a loud laugh from the 
latter. 

“ It would be very odd if you were not a gentleman,” 
added the stranger ; “ every white man in Virginia is a 
gentleman, born and connected with the first famihes of 
England. This is a jolly baronial hall — fur, rifled walls and 
a roof ready to tumble in. If your castle presents an im- 
posing front to your vassals — these brave boys ” 

“ Silence ; no more of this ! ” exclaimed Malcolm spring- 
ing to his feet, with lips quivering with suppressed rage. 
‘‘ While dispensing the rites of hospitality, your manifest ill- 
breeding compels me to impose silence upon you. While 
you are under my roof speak only when you are spoken to. 
Your name, sir ? ” 

“ Abdallah Legoffe, horse drover,” replied the stranger, 
without evincing any emotion Avhatever at the violent manner 
and words of his excitable host. 

“ Mister Abdallah Legoffe,” replied Malcolm, “ have the 
kindness to go down to the kitchen where my servant will 
attend to your wants. I wish to be alone.” 

Abdallah, at this harsh and formal dismissal, meekly with- 
drew, exhibiting in his countenance or deportment neither 
mortification or resentment. 

This caused a pang of regret to Malcolm, who mentally 
argued that he should not have been so harsh to a stranger 
whose only fault, perhaps, was ignorance, and he resolved to 
make amends for what had passed. So that, when Jalman 
announced, about an hour afterwards that supper was ready, 


ABDALLAH LEGOFFE. 


95 


Malcolm, upon entering the kitchen, which served as a din- 
ing room, went to Abdallah and extending his hand, said: 
“ I must beg your indulgence for the very indifferent sup- 
per w'e set before you. Kemember, if you please, that your 
visit was sudden and unexpected.” 

The stranger grasped the extended hand in silence. 

Jalman, according to custon, placed himself at the lower 
end of the table. The supper passed in silence. All at- 
tempts on the part of Malcolm to induce conversation were 
vain. His guest answered the host by an approving nod or 
smile, but never a word. 

Finding his advances thus silently repulsed, Malcolm has- 
tened to dispatch his suj)per of cold meat ; when Jalman, in 
the midst of a gastronomic operation of emptying a large 
bowl of porridge, suddenly stopped and gazed at his master 
with a startled expression. “ Did you hear. Master ?” said he. 

“Certainly, I heard that last peal of thunder,” replied 
Malcolm. “ I am not deaf — why did you ask ? ” 

“ Oh, nothing,” rephed Jalman, plunging his spoon in his 
bowl. 

“ Did that clap of thunder announce to you the end or 
the renewal of the storm ? ” enquired his master. 

“To me — nothing at all. Master,” replied the servant, 
swallowing his spoonful. “I only speak to hear myself talk.” 

A second had scarcely elapsed when Malcolm, pushing 
his plate from him, appeared in his turn to listen attentively 
to the roaring of the storm. “ That is not thunder,” said he 
springing from his seat and running to the door. “It is 
cannon.” 

“ I guess I know it,” muttered Jalman. “ My wax tapers 
have done the business. St. Patrick I will pay you well.” 

“Jalman ! ” exclaimed Malcolm who, with his ear at the 
keyhole, had just heard a second report of the cannon, 
“ Jalman, quick — the oars — the oars my boy ! It is a ship 
in distress, firing minute guns. Let us go.” 

“Go!” said Jalman in dismay; “a man better take a 


96 


THE BUGOAHEERS. 


night’s lodging with the Monk than go to sea now.” 

“ You are afraid, Jalman,” retorted his master. “ In that 
case, stay where you are.” 

“ I guess I am. Master.” 

“ Afraid ! ” sneered Malcolm, “ first of a salt water bath, 
and then of Bill Croshaw, who will oppose the attempt to 
save life and cargo.” 

“ Afraid of Bill Croshaw ! Master, you are wrong there. 
Have I not knocked out four of his teeth ? ” Then, remem- 
bering the prayer he had uttered in the sacrifice of the wax 
tapers, it occurred to him that the ship in distress was the 
mode in which the saint meant he should break the head 
of his mortal enemy, and full of the idea, he sprang to the 
stout oars in one corner of the kitchen and, throwing them 
over his shoulder, addressed his master — “ I am ready, sir. 
Let us go.” 

‘‘Let me get my pistols and cloak,” replied Malcolm, 
leaving, and then quickly returning to the kitchen with the 
articles. “ Now let us go.” 

The stranger, who had thus far kept his seat in silence, 
now arose. “ Master Malcolm,” said he in a low and solemn 
tone, “you have ordered me to address no words to you 
save in response to your interrogatives ; permit me, under 
the circumstances of the case, to disobey you and to ask the 
honor of being permitted to share the dangers of your 
expedition. It is true I am not a sailor ; but every one 
knows how to use an oar ; and I think that in a storm like 
this two hands more in a small boat are of some importance.” 

This request, so unexpected, produced a startling eifect 
upon the young man to whom it was addessed. “ I accept 
your aid,” said he. “ You have a noble heart which I have 
stupidly misunderstood. I beg you to overlook the past 
and pardon my ill-timed petulance.” 

“ Bah ! ” rephed the stranger. “ Let the past bury the 
past. Every second we waste in words a human life is lost. 
Forward — forward ! ” 


THE SHIP ON THE MOCKS, 


97 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE SHIP ON THE EOCKS. 

When tliose three men ^yent forth to succor the ship firing 
signal guns of distress, the coast of the cape iDresented a 
scene as singular as it was gloomy. 

The time-used ox with a lantern tied to his horns, to de- 
ceive and decoy the mariners, was driven along limping, 
followed by a crowd of women, hideous in their dishevelled 
hair and ragged clothes, whom an insatiate thirst for plun- 
der rendered insensible to the jielting of the storm. 

Men, armed with cutlasses and pikes, glided along the 
water’s edge like phantoms. And here and there a wrecker 
could be seen kneeling on the sand praying God to send 
him a plentiful supply of victims and plunder — asking God 
with cool assurance to become their accomphce in murder 
and robbery. 

Dark as the night was, the presence of Malcolm and his 
companions, betrayed by the light of their lantern, was very 
soon known to the wreckers. When they reached the place 
where their canoe was beached, they found themselves fol- 
lowed by a crowd. 

Malcolm prudently took no notice of this demonstration, 
and, with the utmost sangfroid, with the aid of Jalman and 
the stranger, began to launch their canoe. This canoe was 
a boat made of two longitudinal sections of the trunk of an 
enormous pine tree, semi-decked or washboarded longitudi- 
nally, leaving a free space fore and aft for the crew. Under 
this washboard were stowed the sails and masts, which could 
be stepped and unfurled at pleasure. 

Whilst exerting all his strength on the boat, which had 
been drawn ujd high and dry oil the beach, Malcolm never 
failed to keep an eye uiion the crowd, who continued to 


98 


THE • BUCCANEERS. 


press, step by step, upon him. And finally, when they got 
within arms length of him, he ceased straining at the canoe, 
moving slowly upon rollers commonly used for launching, 
and facing about, pistol in hand, said, “ My lads, I fear that 
some of you are about to commit a little indiscretion which 
wHl cost you dear. Permit me to advise you to mind your 
own business and let mine alone. You know well enough 
that wlicM I say a thing I mean it. And I now tell you that I 
win kill like a dog the first one of you that advances one 
step nearer.” 

At these words, uttered with a calm but terrific energy, 
accompanied with the audible click of a pistol, the mob fell 
back precipitately, but continued yelling and hooting. 

“ Master Ismail Malcolm,” said a voice from the crowd, 
“ you, who are a — gentleman, should have some consideration 
for us poor devils ; but instead of that, you do not even 
respect our hereditary rights and privileges. What God 
sends us is our bread — touch it not.” 

“ Master,” said Jalman, “ that is Bill Croshaw — ^look sharp 
— ^he is chock full of treachery and revenge.” 

Malcolm was about to reply, when three reports of a can- 
non in quick succession — the despairing cry of a sinking 
ship — called for action. With one heave and push of his 
stalwart shoulders he put the canoe afloat. 

Jalman, seeing from the deportment of the wreckers, that 
a collision was inevitable, looked around for a chance to 
grapple with his old enemy. Bill Croshaw ; but, seeing him 
in the centre of a crowd, he followed his master’s example, 
by wading through the surf to the canoe — then about thirty 
feet from the beach. 

This flight gave fresh impetus to the fur}" of the wreckers; 
arid when Abdallah Legoffe attempted to follow his two 
companions, he found himself surrounded by a fierce and 
yelling mob. 

The stranger, so far, had been rather spectator than actor 
— looking on with a serene, nonchalant air. Whether from 


7I1E SHIP ON THE ROCKS. 


99 


ignorance or hardihood, he ignored the menacing attitude 
of the coasters. 

“ This fellow, at least, shall not go out,” said Bill Croshaw, 
seizing him by the skirt of his coat. “ Woe be to him, if we 
are cheated out of the bread God sends us ! ” 

“My friend,” said Abdallah mildly, “if you have the right 
to detain 'me, there is no necessity to tear my clothes. 
Satisfy me of that fact, and I yield. If you are acting on 
your own individual authority, that alters the case — and I 
resist.” 

“ Come along,” shouted Malcolm, ignorant of the critical 
position of his comrade. 

“ You hear, my dear friend,” said Abdallah to Croshaw ; 
“ he calls me. Quick — I have no time to lose — explain your 
right or let me go.” 

“ By the right of might f exclaimed Croshaw, bringing his 
shilaleh to the position of “front cut.” 

“In that case, it is natural that I should use the same 
right to go,” replied the unruffled stranger ; and, suiting 
the action to the word, in the twinkling of an eye, snatched 
the shilaleh from the hand of Croshaw and rushed upon the 
crowd. 

The iron-shod shilaleh was the habitual, every day weapon 
of the coasters, which they used with the tact of a second 
nature. Nevertheless the skill with which Abdallah laid 
them about him surpassed anything they had ever seen. In 
less than three seconds Bill Croshaw and three of his most 
ruffianly pals were stretched upon the sand, stunned, and 
with a stream of red gore oozing from their nostrils. The 
rest were scattered like chaff before the wind. 

“I hate to be vexed,” said Abdallah to the fugitives. 
“ Good nature is the principal ingredient of my character. 
It is your own fault, and you have paid for it ! ” 

And then armed with the captured shilaleh, without delay 
or haste, he waded out to the canoe in which Malcolm and 
Jalman were already seated. 


100 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


“ Do you •wish me to take the helm ? ” said he to Malcolm, 

“ Do you know how to steer ? ” replied Malcolm. 

“ Not too well — it is not my occupation;” was the reply. 

“ Then take an oar and keep time with Jalman, and I will 
steer,” said Malcolm. 

Abdallah, without a word concerning his rencontre with 
Croshaw, seated liimself upon the thwart parallel to that 
occupied by Jalman and, feathering his oar, merely said, “I 
am ready.” 

The stranger decidedly made amends by his solid quahties 
for his deficiencies in etiquette. He knew wdien to be silent 
and when to act. With the exception of the opposition 
offered by the wreckers, the three adventurers on this for- 
lorn hope so far had not met with any serious difficulties. 

The danger, terrible as it was then, scarcely began for 
them until their canoe had crossed a species of lagoon under 
the lee of a line of huge rocks at the dividing line between 
shoal and deep water — then the ocean presented an aspect 
appalling and sublime. 

Neptune, the fabled king of pilots, would have recoiled 
from such a tempest in the discharge of his duty. 

The wind blew dhect from the ocean upon the cape and 
rendered the attempt at rescue, to all appearance, impos- 
sible. Hurled back as often as they advanced they had not 
gained the length of the canoe in tAventy strokes of the oars. 

“Lookout, Master!” exclaimed Jalman; “I see, by the 
light of the lantern, a man on that rock right ahead armed 
with a musket.” 

“ Bah I The night is too dark and the light of the lan- 
tern too glimmering for a ball from that musket— supposing 
that it is not a boat hook — to strike me,” carelessly replied 
Malcolm. 

“ To hell, with your canoe 1 ” yelled the armed man seen 
by Jalman on the rock. “To hell with you, and a quick 
trip ! Don’t forget that this is Friday.’' 

These words produced such an impression uj)on Malcolm 


THE SHIP ON THE ROCKS. 


101 


and his servant that one let go the tiller and the other his 
oar — the canoe, broaching to, was struck athwart ship and 
nearly capsized and filled with water. 

“ If this is the way you navigate,” said the stranger, in a 
tranquil voice, “ it is folly to think of rendering assistance to 
a ship in distress. I am rather of the opinion that we 
should return to land.” 

“It is too true — this is indeed Friday,” said Jalman, 
crushed by the terrible visitation. 

“ Simpleton ! ” exclaimed the stranger ; “ can you have 
fifty-two unlucky days in the year ? ” 

“No," faltered Jalman. 

“ Then be smart — don’t slander all the Fridays,” was the 
sneering reply of the stranger. 

“Ah, what an ass I am ! ” exclaimed Jalman joyously. “I 
forgot that I wear around my neck a medal of St. Patrick, 
and that is more potent for good than Friday for ill ; and I 
never knew any ill-luck happen to any one who wears it.” 

Jalman was reassured by this recollection and Malcolm 
by the presence of those before whom he must show no 
weakness or indecision. The one resumed his oar and the 
other his tiller, and the canoe began to dance once more 
uj)on the crests of the waves. 

Guided only by the booming of the minute guns fired at 
intervals by the ship which they were endeavoring to save, 
the daring adventurers groped about at hazard. The dark- 
ness was so intense and the sea in such commotion, that it 
was impossible to distinguish objects more than a cable’s 
length ahead. 

Malcolm, at the helm, displayed singular skill with the 
utmost self possession. Jalman and the stranger nobly sec- 
onded him, particularly the latter who, although he had 
declared he knew but little of the sea, plied his oar with a 
rare precision and vigor. 

Twenty times they were on the point of filhng and capsiz- 
ing, and as often their united, energetic and skillful efforts 
averted a catastrophe which seemed to be inevitable. 


102 


THE BUCCANEERS, 


CHAPTER yill. 

• THE BESCUE. 

Foetune at length appeared to smile upon untiring energy 
and undaunted perseverance. 

About two o’clock in the morning, after a struggle of six 
hours against the fury of the tempest, the wind lulled and 
the sea became smoother ; and Malcolm availed himself of 
this truce to address a few words to his companions — the 
first during this long and toilsome struggle. “ I regret, my 
friends,” said he, (nothing levels social distinction so much 
as common danger), “ that neither of you can take a turn at 
the tiller. You must be worn down. Rest upon your oars 
while I take an observation.” 

“ I know nothing of nautical tactics and probably have 
committed many land-lubber blunders, but as to being 
fatigued , I am not. I could swallow a mouthful of brandy 
if I could get it,” rephed Abdallah Legoffe. 

“Nothing is easier,” said Malcolm, drawing from under 
his cloak, where he had put his pistols to protect them from 
the spray, a bottle of brandy ; “ see, I have brought a httle 
with me.” 

“ Your Cognac has been watered a httle ; no matter, it is 
very good,” said Abdallah, after taking a sup and passing it 
to Jalman. “Well, master Malcolm,” continued he, after a 
pause, “ have you taken your observation ? As to me, if I 
may be so bold, I should say, in spite of my ignorance, that 
you have not advanced more than a mile from the cape.” 

“Your reckoning is perfectly correct.” 

“Ah, indeed!” said Abdallah, with a hearty laugh. “It 
seems then that I do know somethmg of navigation. This 
discovery gives me presumption enough to ask another 


THE RESCUE. 


103 


question — what is the objective point of your operations ? 

“What else, as you well know, but to assist the poor 
devils who appeal to our humanity and manhood,” replied 
Malcolm. 

“ So I presume ; but that is not the question,” replied 
Abdallah. “I wish to learn the modus operaudi of your 
humanity and manhood.” 

“A simple process,” rephed Malcolm. “By serving as 
their pilot I prevent them from falling into the hands of the 
Philistines.” 

“ Then you know how to pilot ships ? ” 

“ I know every inch of the coast from St. Augustine to 
Boston, and every harbor in the Chesapeake bay ; and the 
only favor I ask of God is to let me put my foot on the deck 
of a ship before she strikes. If she will simply float and 
obey her hehn, I will forfeit my life or put her into a safe 
harbor.” 

Malcolm had but uttered these words when there came 
the report of a cannon so near as to cause the canoe to 
quiver from cut- water to stern. It came from a ship scarcely 
a cable’s length ahead, firing its last gun. 

Malcolm, guided by the flash, steered direct for the ship. 
Abdallah and Jalman strained at the oars ; and in five min- 
utes they found themselves under the lee of a full rigged 
ship. 

“ How unfortunate ! ” exclaimed Malcolm ; “ the case is 
hopeless — the ship has struck upon the ‘ Devil’s Head.’ ” 

The wrecked ship presented an appalhng sight, capsized 
upon her starboard beam-ends, surging, crashing and grind- 
ing upon a cluster of rocks called “ Devil’s Head,” her tim- 
bers starting and her spars falling at every plunge, while 
cries and shrieks of despair arose from her crowded deck. 

“ I believe,” said Abdallah to Malcolm, “ that all we can 
do is simply to put back. The condition of the ship is a 
hopeless one, and no human effort can save her. Would it 
not be prudent to take advantage of the present lull to get 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


104 

back to land? For angM we know tbe wind may change 
and blow ns ont to sea.” 

Oh, Master, let ns go in,” said Jalman, now anxions to 
get his share of the “ mercy of Grod.” 

“ Silence ! ” exclaimed Malcolm. “ I need obedience, not 
connsel. To save the ship I know as well as yon is a thing 
impossible, bnt perhaps we can snatch some victim from the 
jaws of death.” 

“ Onr boat. Master,” replied Jalman, beseechingly, “ will 
only carry seven persons in a sea like this.” 

“ Well, we are only three. Do yon consider the lives of 
four men noihmg?” said Malcolm sternly, 

« No great affair,” said Abdallah coolly. “ Let ns not re- 
tnrn empty handed — fonr persons saved will keep ns in char- 
acter.'’ 

Malcolm laid alongside of the capsized ship. The crew 
mshed forward, en masse, to avail themselves of this very 
nnexpected relief. 

“ Keep off!” exclaimed Abdallah. “These fools have jnst 
wit enongh to crowd into the canoe and swamp it.” 

Then came one of those nniqne scenes which are snch 
common episodes in the lives of men who go down to the 
sea in ships. 

A pnny, wiry little man, of a yellow, bilions complexion — 
a mere shadow of mascnlinity — threw himself, Avith a hatch- 
et in his hand, upon the crowd, and imperionsly ordered 
them back to their places. “Wretches,” said he scornfnlly, 
“ when did sailors, who deserve the name, fly inglorionsly 
and leave to their fate, helpless women and passengers con- 
fided to their honor ? Yon shonld not think of yonr OAvn 
safety nntil yon have secnred that of the connt and his 
danghter. By the beard of saint Peter, I will break the 
head of the first one who attempts to board that canoe. 
Come, Sehora,” continned he, tnrning to a gronp on the 
qnarterdeck, “ there is no time to lose — come.” 

From the actions of this man — the terrific nproar aronnd 


THE RESCUE. 


lOo 


prevented his words from being heard — Malcolm recognized 
the captain of the ship. Had he and Jalman, oblivious of 
everything but what was passing on the deck, cast an eye 
u]3on Abdallah, they would have been amazed at the change 
that passed over him. His eyes, glittering like a basilisk, 
his face scowling dark and grim, his brow contracted, his 
nostrils dilated, head thrown back, his upper lip quivering 
with an indescribable expression of savage hatred, he -^as 
no longer recognizable. 

At the voice of their chief the sailors feU back without a 
murmur. The captain came forward, leading by the hand 
a young lady. Malcolm now understood what was required 
of him ; and, as a wave raised his canoe to a level with the 
waist of the ship, he seized hold of a shroud-stay and leaped 
on deck. 

The captain began to address him in Spanish, when a man 
clothed in black velvet, of lofty, haughty mien and gray 
beard and mustache, approached and spoke to him in Eng- 
lish. “ The captain wishes you, sir,” said he, “ to save my 
daughter first, and then return for us after you have taken 
her ashore.” 

Seconds were then hours. Malcolm knew that if he en- 
tered into any explanation he would compromise his return, 
and he promptly replied to the man in black ; “ Assist me, 
sir, to save your daughter,” 

Then passing his left arm around the waist of the girl, 
and, holding on with his right to the mizzen shrouds, stand- 
ing on the quarter railing, waited until another wave should 
hft the canoe to a level with the deck. 

My father ! my father !” exclaimed the devoted girl, 
struggling to free herself from the grasp of Malcolm. “ I 
will not be saved without you. If you remain I will remain 
to share your fate.” 

“ Isabel, my daughter, I follow you. Fear nothing. In 
the name of your sainted mother, offer no resistance to the 
efforts of this noble stranger.” 


106 


THE BUCGANEEItS. 


While the father was speaking Malcolm, seeing the propi- 
tious moment, sprang into, the canoe with his j^recious burden. 

The crew of the sinking ship, forgot for a moment their 
own perilous position while contemplating the boldness and 
address of Malcolm and the peril of the girl. First a shriek 
of despair and then a cheer of triumph burst from thirty 
mouths, when Malcolm gained the canoe, and placed in safe- 
ty upon a seat, her whom the man in black called Isabel. 

“ My father !” exclaimed the girl stretching out her arms 
towards him, “ come I implore you.” 

The Hidalgo prepared to follow the example of Malcolm. 
He clung to the shrouds outside the waist until a reflux 
surge brought the canoe under his feet — then let himself go. 

As he was about to drop Abdallah Legoffe, either by ac- 
cident or design, pushed the canoe from under him, and the 
unlucky passenger fell into the sea. 

A piercing shriek arose above the roar of the storm, and 
Isabel lay fainting on the bottom of the canoe. 

An awful pause followed this accident. Malcolm, hesitating 
an instant and but an instant, leaped into the sea before 
either of his companions could prevent him. 

“Hell and damnation !” exclaimed Abdallah, losing his 
self-possession for the first time; “this is madness, not 
valor.”' Then reproaching himself for the mischief which 
he had caused, was about to commit a similar folly, when 
he saw Malcolm holding the drowning man by his gray hair 
with his left hand, and seize with his right the bight of a 
rope hanging over the sliip’s side. 

“Well done my boy,” said he, extending his oar to Mal- 
colm, who seized it. “ You are saved.” 

One moment more and Malcolm and the rescued man 
v/ere in the canoe. But the Spaniard was insensible. 

This scene, of such dramatic intensity, did not consume 
five seconds. 

“Come,” said Abdallah, “let us row smartly and get 
ashore before the wind freshens.” 


IHE couxrs DAUGllTEll. 


107 


All these events had passed with such bewildering rapid- 
ity that IMalcolm had not as yet observed the features of the 
lady ; but now he cast his eyes upon her as she lay fainting 
at his feet and uttered an exclamation of admiration and 
astonishment. 

At this ejaculation Abdallah shrugged his shoulders with 
an air of disdain and scorn, and bore upon his oar with such 
force that it bent two-thirds of its length. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE count’s daughter. 

Isabel Sandoval, at the time of this narrative, was seven- 
teen years of age. Born under the burning sun of the 
tropics and consequently of precocious maturity, she was 
now, though in her girlhood, in the full maturity and splen- 
dor of woman’s beauty. 

Never had Malcolm, in the most visionary and erratic 
dreams of his solitary life, seen such a chef-d'ceuvre of female 
beauty. As his eye dra;al£ in the voluptuous symmetry of 
her person, he felt himself annihilated in the new hght from 
above ; his mental horizon lifted and he felt that his rude 
and solitary world was but a point in the immensity of the 
universe of humanity. And bitter was the thought that so 
many years of bright and joyous youth had been wasted 
amid the sand hills and surf of the Atlantic coast. 

The Creole girl of the Antilles has always been mis-repre- 
sented because misunderstood by the European writers of 
the day. She is not as credulous authors have pretended 
to believe and oftener written upon the testimony of travel- 
lers who have never visited the places they describe — a 
Messalina, glorying in her shame, an exacting mistress who 
stimulates the languid passion of a lover with the point of 
the dagger, a heartless jilt who first amuses herself with and 


108 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


then scornfully tramples npon the crushed affections of her 
victims. Far from it. We will present her as she is, with 
her virtues and faults, graces and defects. 

The true daughter of the tropics is supremely kind and 
compassionate, credulous and naive as a child ; she puts 
to rout all the theories of the physiologist by a simplicity 
and frankness they do not understand and upon which they 
theorize and dramatize. Of a fidelity unostentatious, and 
joerfectly accordant with laisser oiler of her manners, the fair 
Creole makes her love her religion. To the docihty of a 
slave she joins the devotion of a woman. She can love a 
fool without feeling that she is his superior. That one de- 
lusion of the soul suffices her, from the cradle of love to the 
tomb of the body. 

An obvious explanation of the errors into which actual 
travellers have fallen is this : In the case where a Creole girl 
has been cruelly treated in her girlhood she ceases to be a 
woman— she becomes a fiend in her hate. Her sweet and 
gentle nature once violently outraged she no longer discrimi- 
nates between good and evil. Is it expedient to crush a 
world to accomplish her vengeance ? — she marches forward, 
trampling under foot family, religion, pride, virtue. That 
is a rare case, but it is the correct test. 

Isabel Sandoval’s black hair, partially dishevelled, of silky 
lustrous delicacy and massive in profusion, inundated, as 
it were, a face perfectly and artistically oval ; her eyes 
were gentle yet so energetically expressive ; her nose, of 
Grecian regularity, blending with the waving lines of facial 
beauty, gave to her features an expression of such gentle- 
ness and force that it fascinated the eyes and captivated the 
heart. In a word she was ferocious in her beauty. Its 
power annihilated all argument or question. Her mouth 
was like that of an infant, except that her lips, rather thick 
than thin, chiseled by their divine sculptor with such fault- 
less perfection, evinced in their repose a vigor and power 
such as childhood does not possess. 


TEE COUNTS DAUOEIER. 


109 


At tlie moment of Malcolm’s observation, Isabel was not 
such as here just described. The violent shock she had un- 
dergone upon seeing her father fall into the sea had cast the 
palor and rigidity of death upon her beauteous features. 
Her beauty had simply been transformed into an embodi- 
ment of angelic spirituality. 

The first idea of Malcolm was to let go the tiller, and revive 
her; but a furious w^ave struck the canoe — a timely warning 
to recall him to a sense of the perilous reality — or he might 
have committed a blunder, the consequences of which, in 
their critical position, would have been disastrous to all. 

“In the name of common sense,” exclaimed AbdaUah^ 
“ be careful of what you are doing — there is time for oil 
thing sN 

At this insinuation which, without being rude, was at 
least in bad taste, Malcolm blushed like a girl and kept si- 
lent. 

At the same moment the fainting girl became conscious 
of what was passing around *her. 

“ Oh, my father ! my father !” said she sitting up and 
placing the head of her father on her knees. “It is I — ^your 
Isabel — that calls you. Why do you not answer me?” 

“ Sir,” continued the stricken girl, addressing herself to 
Malcolm, in English— she spoke to her father in Spanish, — 
“sir, assist me, I implore you. You will be most nobly re- 
warded. My father is very rich and cares nothing for gold.” 

At these words from Isabel, Malcolm felt his cheeks burn 
like fire and a pang of indefinable bitterness dart through 
his frame. 

“ Ah, could you not drown to hear yourself so compli- 
mented,” said Abdallah with the sneer of Mephistopheles. 
“ Oh, cursed race of Spain,” contmued he, muttering to him- 
self; “pusillanimous and merciless, who believe in gold and 
gold only, who ignore self-denial and devotion — when will 
you cease to curse the earth with your presence ?” 

“ Lady,” said Malcolm with a strong effort at self-posses- 


110 


THE BUCCANEERS, 


sion, “ you deceive yourself as to the character and position 
of those who have at this moment the honor to peril their 
own hves to save yours. I am— a gentleman — and my 
companions volunteered to come with me through the same 
motives that governed me.” 

‘‘Pardon me, sir,” rephed Isabel; “I inferred from your 
appearance .” 

“Your mistake is a very natural one,” said Malcolm, 
quickly interrupting her. “ I nowise differ either in manners^ 
language or appearance from the shiftless beggar who begs 
from door to door. My appearance and occupation must 
necessarily strilie you as one who would greedily accept and 
thank heaven for the boon that any alms, pity or caprice 
would cast out to him. There is no apology due me from 
you.” 

Isabel saw by the bitterness with which he spoke that she 
had wounded him deeply; and she was about to reiterate her 
apology more forcibly when an enormous wave again struck 
the canoe and was near capsizing it. The head of her father 
was thrown from its resting place by the shock and struck 
with violence against the side of the boat. This aroused 
him from his swoon; he muttered some incoherent words, 
and then, so soon as he recognized his daughter, smiled 
gently, and replaced his head upon her knees, muttering, 
“ I am crushed — I am going.” 

Thus assured of her father’s life, the beautiful Spanish girl 
raised her magnetic eyes to Malcolm and said, in her musical 
voice of caressing sweetness, “ Think you that success will 
crown your noble daring — ^have we any chance of ultimate 
safety ? ” 

“ We are favored by the tide,” said he ; “ and if the wind 
does not change we shall soon be om shore.” 

“ Oh, what is it I do not owe you ! ” said the fair Spaniard, 
clasping her hands and raising her eyes to Heaven. 

“ Nothing whatever,” replied Malcolm. “ It was not be- 
cause of you, the daughter of a grandee of Spain, that I went 


THE COUNTS DAUGHTER, 


111 


to your rescue, because I knew not of your existence. I 
have simply obeyed — my orders. What I have done for 
you I would have done for any one else.” 

“ My father, my poor father would have perished but for 
your heroic devotion.” 

“ I would have done the same for a common sailor,” was 
the reply. 

Tho frigid and prosaic replies of Malcolm produced a 
very different effect upon two of the party who heard them. 
A shade of sadness like one of those fleecy clouds, scarcely 
discernible, softening without obscuring the brightness of 
the sun, passed over the face of the Spanish beauty, while a 
joyous and approving smile beamed upon the lips of Ab- 
dallah. 

Twenty minutes more the canoe reached shoal water. The 
suspicions of Malcolm were confirmed, and in a few seconds 
more, when the feet of the rescued would have pressed terra 
Jirma, Malcolm suddenly put the tiller hard a starboard and 
changed the course of the canoe. 

“ Do you mean to take another sea trip ? ” said Abdallah 
with mocking coolness, which seemed a second nature with 
him. ' 

“ No,” repHed Malcolm ; “ only I do not wish to be mas- 
sacred. Take a little observation of the reception they are 
preparing for us on the beach.” 

“ Steady there,” said Abdallah, casting his eyes landward. 
“ They are persevering, those lads. It is very clever in them 
to wait our return so patiently. They make a show at least. 
What a display of gaffs, pikes and axes in honor of our safe 
return.” 

“We are lost ! ” said Isabel, with a slight pallor, but other- 
wise calm and serene. 

“Fear nothing, lady,” said Malcolm. “Thank God, I 
have taken the precaution to be armed. I will dispose of 
two of those scoundrels at least. I have the right to do so. 
That one example of justice will cool the rest of them.” 


112 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


He drew from under his cloak liis pistols, which he put 
there to protect them from the spray, and renewed the prim- 
ing. Presently a man, crouching upon an isolated boulder, 
not fifty paces ahead, sprang up and leveled a musket at 
Malcolm. 

“It is Croshaw,” exclaimed Jalman, springing from his 
seat to cover his master with his own body. But before the 
faithful servant could accomplish this act of devotion, the 
musket was fired. 

“ Are you hurt ? ” asked Abdallah coolly. 

Malcolm, without replying to the question, drew a bead on 
Crcshaw with one of his pistols. The pistol flashed. The 
would be assassin sprang upright in the air, and then 
pitched headforemost into the sea before the report ceased 
to reverberate among the rocks. 

“ Yes ; in the shoulder,” said Malcolm in reply to the 
question of Abdallah. “ But it is nothing ; it will not stop 
me a moment. What course shall we now pursue ? ” 

“If we were alone I should propose to land where we are, 
regardless of what has happened,” rephed Abdallah. “ But 
the presence of this young lady and her helpless father 
would embarrass us and cripple our movements. Would it 
not be better to follow the bay coast and stop at the first 
friendly roof we meet ?” 

“ Twenty miles from here, at Point Comfort, is Hampton 
House, the residence of Sir John Hampton,” said Jalman. 

“The very thing for us,” said Abdallah, “What think 
you, master Malcolm ?” 

Malcolm, mechanically glancing at the fair girl at his feet, 
and then, with a sigh, said, “ Let it be so. Your strength is 
spent, but the wind is fair and we will scud before it to the 
hospitable roof of Sir John Hampton.” 

“.I never was stronger in my life, master,” said Jalman 
as he stepped the mast and unfurled the sail. “ The viati- 
cum you gave Croshaw has made me so happy that I feel as 
strong as an ox and light as a bird.” 


HAMPTON HOUBK 


113 


“ As to me,” said Abdallah, “ I find naval tactics so very 
entertaing that if I did not fear your wound is more se- 
rious than you think, I would be willing to spend the day 
at sea.” 

“ As to you, you scoundrels,” said Malcolm, turning round 
in his seat as the canoe began to fly before the wind, and 
shaking his finger at the yelling and hooting mob who ran 
along the beach parallel to the course of the canoe, “ when 
I return, I will bring with me the common law of England. 
You have risen en masse and with force of arms opposed an 
officer of the king in the lawful discharge of his duty. Look 
ye to it.” 


CHAPTEK X, 

HAMPTON HOUSE. 

With a fair wind, fair tide and well balanced keel, the 
canoe, freighted with the rescuers and rescued, sped like an 
arrow over the waves which roared, rolled and foamed, fol- 
lowing the line of the Chesapeake bay coast within conve- 
nient and acceptable distance of terra firma, towards the 
mouth of the James river. During the first half hour of the 
flight not one word was spoken. Each and all seemed ab ' 
sorbed in meditation. 

Malcolm, as often as he cast his eyes upon Isabel, met 
hers fixed upon him with a sad and pensive expression, 
which caused him to divert his eyes. He, so daring in the 
face of danger, was now timid, confused, abashed in the 
presence of the fair Spanish maid. He felt ridiculous and 
would have given ten years of his life to possess but for an 
hour the ready tact of a courtier or even the impudence of 
one of those “ bloods,” he so often saw but to ridicule, whom 
now he envied. 

The painful silence was at length broken by Jahnan who, 


114 


THE BUCCABEERS. 


rising from liis seat in the bow and peering over the heads 
of the others astern for some minutes, at length said, “ Mas- 
ter, I believe the fellows have all taken the backtrack;” and, 
after a pause, added, “ I see a column of smoke- in the di- 
rection of your house.” 

Jalman, after waiting a moment without an answer, at last 
yelled out at the top of his voice, “ Master, the fellows are 
amusing themselves by burning your house.” 

“Well, so much the better,” was the reply. 

“ You do not understand,” said Jalman in the same tone. 
“I tell you they are burning your house !” 

“I heard you distinctly and I reply, so much the better,” 
replied Malcolm. 

“Umph!” ejaculated Jalman, looking at his master in as- 
tonishment not unmixed with fear. He thought his mas- 
ter’s mind was wandering. At length he said, “ But, master, 
your house was a valuable thing. It was worth twenty 
guineas. Where wiU you live now ?” 

. “ That hovel is not worth talking about,” said Malcolm, 
affecting to reply to his servant, but at the same time gazing 
upon Isabel. “ It was not fit for a gentleman’s quarters, and 
I wonder why I lived in it so long.” 

“ Yet it sheltered a from heat and cold,” mut- 

tered Jalman. “Now, twenty guineas all gone in smoke. 
It is like taking every drop of blood from a man’s body.” 

“ As to what it is worth,” rephed Malcolm, “ that is not an 
item. If the house has really been burnt I shall look upon 
it as a voice from Heaven to quit the country. I have long 
been disgusted with the life I have led. A gentleman is not 
a serf belonging to the soil. His life belongs to his king 
and his country. I will go forth upon the sea to fight the 
enemies of my king.” 

“My God !” exclaimed Isabel, who seemed to pause be- 
tween every word she uttered, “if your house has been 
burnt, we, my father and myself, have been the cause of it. 
If, instead of saving you had preferred to despoil us.” 


HAMPTON HOUSE 


115 


“ That is to say, if I had preferred to be an assassin, a 
robber,” said Malcolm abruptly, with a hauteur so antago- 
nistic to the bashfulness he had hitherto evinced in his de- 
portment to this lady. “Well, finish your sentence. You 
are silent — why ? It is easy to say, *you are a beggar and 
poor deoil — here is some gold, for you, a sufficient recompense 
for your services and incidental losses — take it friend — you have 
done well, thank God for the chance — we are now quits and 
you have no further claim upon us,’ It is easy to say this to a 
poor devil like me, and I cannot conceive why you should 
hesitate to utter what is in your heart and on your tongue.” 

Malcolm was smarting under a sense of wounded pride 
and, as he uttered these^words with a haughty and savage 
air, he brushed from his forehead a mass of black hair which 
the wind had blown over his eyes. Isabel could not but 
gaze upon him with that keen intensity which is a character- 
istic of Sx)anish women in their admiration of masculine 
beauty. 

“ That is so,” said Abdallah exultingly. “ It is rather un- 
lucky that the words were addressed to a woman. To a 
Spanish gentleman two ST^orda- would have leaped from 
their scabbards and the don would have found his match — 
much to my satisfaction.” 

This remark, singular and unaccountable in the mouth of 
Abdallah, recalled Malcolm to himself. He felt a bitter 
pang of regret at the reflection that, in a spirit of wounded 
self love, he had appeared harsh to this fair creature. Pre- 
tending to be preoccupied with the helm he turned away his 
head and kept silent. 

An hour later the canoe grounded on the beach at Point 
Comfort, at the foot of a lawn shaded by a plantation of live 
oak — the site of the present fortress Monroe — where then 
stood the hospitable mansion of Sir John Hampton, who 
has given name to the magnificent estuary which receives 
the waters of the James, Nansemond and Elizabeth rivers. 

“ I am happy, lady,” said Malcohn addressing himself to 


IIG 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


Isabel, “ that instead of compelling you to share the strait- 
ened hospitalities of my own lowly roof, I have, under the 
providence of God, brought you to the princely shelter ot 
Hampton House, where you will have liveried servants to 
wait upon you, rich and noble gallants to anticipate your 
wishes and obey your orders.” 

“ Sir,” replied Isabel, “ I shall never find magnanimity 
and courage like yours. But what mean you ? ” added she 
hurriedly, seeing that Malcolm, after having responded by a 
low bow to this compliment, turned to his canoe. ‘‘Ho you 
not accompany us further? Ho you mean to leave us 
here ? ” 

“ Lady,” replied Malcolm in a hollow voice and with pal- 
lid cheek, “ I am a stranger to the lord of Hampton House, 
and I desire to remain so.” 

“ My God ! what is the matter with you,” exclaimed Isa- 
bel, bounding forward to Malcolm and partially extending 
her arms as if she sought to sustain him. 

“ Nothing ^lady 1 thank you. This ball in my 

shoulder — the loss of blood. It will be no tiling.” 

“ You are seriously wounded,” exclaimed Isabel. “ Ever 
since you have been struck — more than two hours ago — ^you 
have had the fortitude to remain at your post, suffering in 
silence. Oh, sir, if all English gentlemen were like you the 
nobility of your country would be the noblest under the 
sun.” 

Malcolm would have rej)lied, but pain and weakness pre- 
vented him ; and if Jalman had not rushed forward and 
caught him in his arms he would have fallen. 

The servant gently laid his master down on the sand 
beach. 

“ Take care of your master,” said Abdallah, “ while I go 
to the house for assistance.” 

N 

But Jalman, as if struck by a sudden idea, seized the horse 
drover by the arm. “ Stay— can you not tell me first who 
you are ? ” demanded he, scrutinizing the face of the man. 


HAMPTON HOUSE. 


117 


“ Who will guarantee that you wish to assist my master, or 
that I vrill ever see you again if I let you go ? Your con- 
duct does not appear to me to be fair and open. You may 
be an accomplice of Croshaw. ’Tis true you shared our 
dangers. That may be a blind. Why, in fine, after having 
given me two shillings for information about my master, you 
came to ask his hospitality.” 

“ To sell liim a horse, if he wanted one,” was the laconic 
reply. 

“ Ah, fool me with hog and hominy, will you ! ” said Jal- 
man, mockingly. “ You think that because Jalman Yaughn 
is an uneducated man and a servant to boot, he must be a 
fool — ^that your profession of horse dealer must pass current 
with me ? You a horse drover — bah ! There is not upon 
the ocean a sailor more at home in a storm than you. 
There is not a wrecker at the cape that can handle oar or 
cudgel like you. You pretend to be — a horse drover ! Tell 
me who and what you are.” 

“ I am in a little bit of a hurry just now,” said Abdallah 
good humoredly, taking Jalman up by the waist as he would 
a child, and sending him rolling over the sand lilie a ball. 
While Jalman was slowly rising, more surprised than hurt, 
Abdallah hastily walked off. 

It would require a pencil instead of a pen to depict that 
look of implacable hatred which the so-called horse drover, 
in passing, cast upon the father of Isabel as he lay upon the 
sand. 

“ How cursed unlucky ! ” muttered he, clenching his hands 
and gnashing his teeth, “ that He has saved Her. Ah ! San- 
doval — count of Monterey — since you have crossed my path 
again — look to yourseK ! ” 

But after he had gone a few paces that dark and scowling 
face brightened with an idea, like a sunbeam upon a glacier, 
and he muttered, “ What is written in Heaven must be done 
on earth. Why struggle against destiny when its manifes- 
tations are so clear and so extraordinary? He loves her— 


118 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


and who knows but wliat that very passion is the very 
means to fulfill my vengeance. The providence of God is 
impenetrable — inscrutable. Does not crime always, sooner 
or later, bring its own punishment I ” 


CHAPTER XL 

THE BEAUTIFUL NURSE. 

Upon a canopied bed of ample dimensions, in a chamber 
of lofty ceiling with gothic wainscoting and gorgeously fres- 
coed panels, lay a young man pale and wan. 

It was Malcolm, who for five days had been ill with fever 
and delirium. His wound proved, upon examination, to be 
very severe. Under the inspiration of an iron will he con- 
cealed it until he had secured the safety of the count and 
his daughter. This being accomplished, he fell fainting, as 
has been seen. 

He and his party were cordially received by Sir John 
Hampton, and he lay for five days delirious. 

By one of those mysteries which we, in our ignorance, 
attribute to luck, but which is a dispensation of Providence, 
he did not die under the operation when the surgeon, sum- 
moned by Sir John Hampton, extracted the baU — turned 
under the clavicle. 

On the morning of this day, the surgeon had announced 
that the crisis was past, and that he would guarantee the 
recovery of the patient. 

Jalman, perched upon one side of his master’s bed, 
watched with a tender interest at variance with his rude 
nature, the sleep of the convalescent. “If this surgeon,” 
said he, “has deceived me with a design of raising false 
hopes, I will rub him down with my cudgel. But that will 
not mend the matter. Pity it was that when master killed 
Croshaw he should have prevented me from paying off that 


TEE BEAUTIFUL NUB8E. 


119 


other rascal in the same coin. It would have given me 
such j)leasure. But master is about to speak. Speak to 
me, master. It is Jalman. He knows me not — ^he still calls 
upon that Spanish girl they call Isabel. He must be very 
much out of his senses to be taken up with that sapling of a 
girl who does not weigh a hundred j)ound, and who will 
break like a reed. How he will laugh, when he gets well, 
when I tell him that he could talk of nothing else but her — , 
he will not believe me. What a queer thing fever is — it' 
makes a body say whatever comes up.” 

Jalman, while uttering these words, had left his place at 
the bedside and began pacing with hasty strides up and 
down the chamber floor. Suddenly he halted, and smiting 
his brow with his flst.with force sufficient to fell a bullock, 
exclaimed, “ What an ass I am ! How could I forget it ? A 
hundred times — my fault if master does not get well. The 
idea had entirely escaped me. How easy to burn two wax 
tapers for his recovery. It has been some time, my good 
St. Patrick, since I have troubled you; pardon me, if I have 
neglected my duties for a few days. I did not think I 
should require your assistance. Do not be uneasy; I will 
make amends hereafter. I owe you something for our safe 
arrival here. I will lump the whole — and make a grand 
illumination — then you wiU be very well satisfied.” 

Jalman, eager to put his pious project in execution, 
seized his slouched hat and cudgel, and made for the door. 
But as he was going out a new idea struck him. “ It is im- 
possible for me,” said he, “ to leave my master alone. What 
would he ^-hink of me when he becomes conscious, as the 
surgeon says he will, to-day, to And himself alone, abandoned 
ky me, whose services are his. Ah, my patron saint, you 
can consider my intention as a thing done. Kestore my 
master to health immediately— if I violate my vow you can 
make him relapse — you lose nothing.” 

Ja^nan, beheving that the saint could not resist such a 
logical argument, returned to the bedside of his master to 


120 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


see that he was still quiet, when the door of the chamber 
opened and Isabel entered. 

Clothed in black velvet — such was the fashion of Spain, — 
she was not such as we have first seen her. She had 
recovered her regal beauty. Majestic and graceful in her 
walk, serenely powerful and bright her eyes, nothing was 
so sweet and fascinating as the furtive smiles which 
opened her roseate lips. Her complexion, not the sickly 
pallor of the sedentary and fashionable life of cities, 
had recovered the lustrous tint so characteristic of perfect 
health. A poet, inspired by the beautiful and truthful, in 
contemplating this fair being, would have felt the inadequacy 
of his muse and thrown away his pen. 

Jalman was not poetical. The first and only idea the ap- 
j)earance of Isabel suggested to him was, that she could re-* 
lieve him at the bedside of his • master until he could put 
himself in communication with his saint. He advanced 
to meet her, pulling at Ms fore top by way of salutation. 

Lady,” said he, coming to the point without preamble or 
circumlocution, take good care of my master while I am 
gone. If he wishes to arise or should ask for his coat you 
will find it on the sofa there. The draught is there on the 
table; and, remember, if he remarks my absence, tell him 
that I have not left one moment since he has been ill, and 
that I have gone out for Mm.” Fearing a refusal Jalman, as ho 
uttered these words, bolted out of the door of the chamber. 

The interview thus unexpectedly forced upon her by no 
means seemed to disconcert the fair Spaniard. She ad- 
vanced softly to the bedside of the patient, seated herself 
and began to scan attentively the features of the wounded 
man. What was strange, during this physiognomical ex- 
amination, the features of Isabel s expressed none of those 
emotions of sympathy or gratitude which we would natur- 
ally attribute to her; but, on the contrary, twice or thrice- a 
scowl darkened her faultless brow, and a glance like hght- 
ning from a cloud flashed Mom her eyes. 


TEE BEAUTIFUL NURSE. 


121 


A iialf hour after the departure of Jalman, Malcolm, 
iuretching out his arms and muttering some incoherent 
words, opened his eyes. The prediction of the physician 
was verified. 

The first object that met the eyes of the convalescent was 
Isabel. 

“ Always the same vision — ever her!” murmured he, with- 
out evincing any astonishment; thus revealing to the fair 
Spaniard how very familiar her enbodiment had become to 
the j)atient during his delirium. 

“Poor young man!” said she in a whisper; and then, after 
a short pause, said aloud: “Do you not feel yourself much 
better to-day ?” 

At this question the blood rushed to the cheek of the pa- 
tient and he shuddered. 

“You do not recognize me, then?” continued Isabel. 
“ Must I remind you that I owe my life to your devotion as 
an officer and your courage as a man ?” 

Malcolm essayed a reply, but his emotions were such that 
some moments elaj)sed before he coiild muster strength 
enough for utterance. “ Oh, lady,” said he, “ I entreat you 
to leave no more.” 

The agitation of the patient did not appear to disconcert 
the beautiful nurse. 

She quietly arose, prepared the anodyne prescribed by 
the physician, and presenting it to the lips of Malcolm^ said, 
“You are very weak to-day, sir, and I fear that you excite 
yourself needlessly.” 

“You deceive yourself,” exclaimed Malcolm. “I have 
never felt myself so strong as now; and I have much to tell 
you.” 

“Me, sir?” said Isabel with more coolness than surprise. 

“Is it not natural,” continued the patient a in broken and 
faltering tone, “ that I should wish to learn if your father is 
out of danger — the crew of the ship saved — and finall}^” 
added he, after a pause, “ if you have found the gentlemen 


122 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


wlio visit Hampton House as gallant and as accomplished as 
they are said to he ?” 

“ My father,” replied Isabel, “ has entirely recovered from 
the shock incidental to his rescue; but our poor sailors were 
ruthlessly murdered by the v/reckers. As to the gentlemen, 
I can give no opinion about them, not having had the honor 
of meeting any.” 

These words seemed to afford an unmistakable pleasure 
to the patient; he breathed as if a load had been lifted from 
his heart. 

He was about to speak, when Isabel put her finger up to 
her beautiful mouth with a forbidding snule, saying, “ If 
you persist in throwing obstacles in the way of your recov- 
ery, I tell you that I wiU not be a party to your indiscretion, 
but will go away and leave you alone.” 

“ Oh, do not go away,” exclaimed Malcolm. 

“ Then go to sleep,” was the reply of Isabel, with impe- 
rial gentleness. 

Malcolm, docile as a child, closed his eyes; but it was easy 
to perceive by his irregular respiration that slumber was 
feigned, and that so far from yielding to the influence of 
sleep he was never more wide-awake than now. 

Nearly an hour thus passed, when Malcolm, suddenly 
opening his eyes said, “Lady, I hear footsteps coming to- 
ward this chamber — perhaps you might be compromised by 
being seen here alone.” 

“How so, sir ?” said she, somewhat haughtily and ironically. 
“ Do you think that Isabel Sandoval could be compromiaed 
by her sympathy for a poor sick man ?” 

“ Oh, lady,” replied Malcolm in grief, dropping his head 
helplessly upon his pillow, “you are too cruel to a broken and 
crushed spirit.” 

Malcolm was speaking when Jalman entered the room. 
The servant seeing his master restored to consciousness, ex- 
pressed neither joy or astonishment; he simply said to Isa- 
bel, “ I hope, lady, that my master has no right to complain 
of you, and that he has been carefully nursed.” 


THE BEAUTIFUL NURSE. 


123 


I have done my best,” replied she with a smile. 

“ That is the least you could do,” tartly replied the mat- 
ter-of-fact servant. “ But when did he come to his senses ?” 

“Directly you left,” was the reply. 

“That’s queer,” replied Jalman in a tone of regret. “I 
was too hasty, I might have saved my two wax candles — 
but he might have had a relapse — the word of an honest 
man is his bond. I truly hope, my good Saint, that you will 
give me credit for what I have over-paid you, at the proper 
time,” 

Isabel, who was very much diverted at the primitive logic 
of Jalman, was obliged to impose silence upon him by a 
look from liis master who was mortified at the servant’s 
brusque manners. 

All remir, senor,” said she. “ Do not scold him — he 
seems devoted to you — and I take him under my protection. 
I will return to-morrow to see how you progress. Once 
more, au remir f 

The grateful look with which Malcolm responded to these 
words was the more eloquent by its silence, which was duly 
appreciated by Isabel. 

“ Oh — indeed — she takes me under her protection, does 

glie that girl!” said Jalman, sarcastically, as soon as the fair 

Spaniard had gone. 

“ Keep quiet,” said Malcolm, sternly. 

“ Faith, master, if you get into a pet this quick it is a good 
symptom — you will soon get well.” 

“ Come here, Jalman,” replied Malcolm. “Tell me aU that 
has passed since I have been ill; how long have I been in 
this condition ?” 

“ Five long days, master. It is not to flatter that I teU 
you, that you must be very well put together to have got 
over it. It astonishes me that' you did not die. As to tell- 
ing you all^ that would take two hours. I watched over you 
every minute after your fever set in. In the first place I 
went to the cape to get your horse before you became so 
dangerously ill.” 


124 


THE BUCCAEEEBS, 


“ What did they say at the cape f* 

‘‘ I do not know what they said, I only know what they 
did’* replied Jalman with a shrug. “I found nobody 
there — your horse in the stable — ^your house burnt to the 
ground and everybody gone. It seems that after i)lunder- 
ing the Spanish ship and mui-dermg the crew, they burnt 
their own town and left. Wliether your parting address had 
anything to do with their exodus or not, I can’t say.’" 

“Thank God, for the deliverance,” ejaculated Malcolm. 
“ Those words that I uttered would have compelled me to 
go to that hated spot again. But what of our unknown 
friend, the horse drover ?” 

“ Ah, he is a puzzle, master. I never heard one word of 
him. He left us as he came — in a fog. Do you know what 
I think of him, master ?” 

“What?” 

“ I think he is the Devil,” said Jalman demurely. “He rode 
a jet black horse without one atom of white about him. 
When I crossed the river to AVilloughby’s Point, about two 
hours after we reached Hampton House, to go to the cape, I 
found that horse there with his master’s saddle on and bridle 
in his mouth; and he stepped into the ferry-boat as coolly 
as I stepped out. I made the sign of the cross — and I have 
been expecting every day to see the two shillings he gave 
me turned into dry leaves. None but the evil one can go 
and come as that man and his horse.” 

“ He is certainly a mystery,” said Malcolm; and then, after 
a pause, added, “ Did Isabel ever enquire after me ?” 

“ Every day,” was the reply. 

“ But she never came to see me.” 

“ On the contrary, master,” said Jalman with a smile. “Not 
a day passed without seeing her in this chamber. And what 
a curious creature she was ! She would stare at you with 
her black eyes all the while, and it provoked me. But, mas- 
ter, what are we to do now our house is burnt — that both- 


ers me. 


CONVALESCENCE. 


125 


“ What will we do !” exclaimed Malcolm in a transport of 
joy — so that Jalman thought that his fever was returning. 
“We will travel — we will fight — we wiU become rich and 
powerful, like the merchant princes of England.” 

“Ah, to be sure,” said Jalman; “and then you will in- 
crease my wages. But, master, how will you become aU 
that r 

“ I do not know,” said Malcolm after some hesitation; 
“ but I swear that as I live I wiU succeed !” 

“And I,” said Jalman, “wiU foUow you to the death.” 

Malcolm, exhausted by the effort he had made, dropped 
his head upon his pillow and fell into a sound, refreshing 
sleep, pronouncing these words — “ My God ! how much I 
love her — and how happy I am !” 


CHAPTER XII. 

CO^TVALESCENCE. 

A WEEK passed after the interview narrated between Mal- 
colm and Isabel; and that short space of time had sufficed 
to establish the entire convalescence of the patient. 

The beautiful daughter of Spain, faithful to her promise, 
came every day to assure herself of her champion’s progress 
toward the restoration of his health. After each of these 
visits an unusual invigoration manifested itself in the symp- 
toms of the patient, to the great surprise of the physician — 
the “leech,” as Jalman called him — ^who, it seems, was 
aware that present joy and anticipated happiness are the 
most potent restorers nature possesses. 

Malcolm was so sublimated by his joyous aspirations and 
hopes, that his spirit at times and for moments, sank under 
the weight of his happiness. 

The vision of Isabel was to him a revelation from an in- 
visible world of 'beauty. No wonder, then, that without 


126 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


physical transformation he should pass from the most pas- 
sionate to the most ideal and unworldly love. Gifted with 
a vivid imagination, rendered intensely susceptible by the 
austere isolation in which the greater portion of his youth 
had been passed, this young man now lavished upon Isabel 
all those bewildering and intoxicating day-dreams — those 
passionate aspirations, those transports of the human heart 
which, aimless hitherto, had by turns exalted and crushed 
his spirit. 

Since he had known her he had never once essayed to an- 
alyze the seeming contradictions in the fair Spaniard. Did 
she smile upon him? he trembled under the weight of a 
sense of beatitude too great for realization. Did she look 
upon him with a haughty and mocking eye? his future 
seemed blank, and indistinct — notions of suicide darted 
through his brain. 

If he had not loved her with all that blindness of first 
love which is so near akin to madness, Malcolm would have 
been appalled by the singularity of her deportment. Every 
thing in her evinced contradiction, inconsistency and mys- 
tery. In one moment she would fall into deep reveries — 
absorbed in meditation upon past events, buried memories, 
present events or future contingencies — and then that day- 
sleep, as it were, would be broken by a sudden and unac- 
countable outburst of mirthful glee. 

Malcolm was but too happy to smile with her in her joy 
and grieve too deeply with her in her sadness — the cause of 
either, to him, perfectly unknown or unaccountable. 

One morning, after a sweet sleep which had in a manner 
calmed his restless spirit and fevered pulse, Malcolm de- 
scended to the park of live oak which spread its acres of 
shade over a magnificent laAvn — a peninsula bounded on 
one. side by the waters of the Chesapeake bay and on the 
other by the estuary of the James river known as Hampton 
roads. Then and there he saw Isabel seated on a rustic chair, 
her head pensively bent, her spirit wandering in reverie.. 


CONVALESCENCE.. 


127 


*‘Ali! it is you,” said slie starting from her life trance, 
after he had gazed upon her for some moments unseen and 
in silence ; “ I am so glad — I wish to talk to you.” 

Utterance failed him. He could only reply by a low bow. 
His heart throbbed mth a wild tumult. 

Isabel graciously, with aU the naivete of a child, made 
room for him on the bench by her side ; and then, leaning 
with her palm upon his knee said — gazing tenderly into his 
eyes — My father told me yesterday afternoon that he was 
sufficiently restored to continue his journey, and we shall 
leave here by the fii'st outward bound ship for Havana, 
under the convoy of that Enghsh frigate you see lying in 
the roads. I have all the morning shrank from telling you 
this because of my deep sense of gratitude to you, but more 
particularly of the cloud it would cast over the few bright 
moments of our transitory association. I cannot leave you 
forever unthanked. Believe me, my father and I will never 
forget your noble devotion to us, and every day of our lives 
your name will be in our hearts and in our prayers.” 

‘‘ Separate us ! ” exclaimed Malcolm in a voice so hoarse 
as to be scarcely audible. “ It cannot be ! it must not be ! 
What wiU become of me without you?” 

The emotion of the speaker was so unaffected — ^his grief 
as intense as self evident — that Isabel could but feel deeply 
and bitterly in sympathy. 

“ Stay, lady,” said Malcolm in a voice quivering with an 
effort at self possession ; “ since you deem some gratitude 
due me, listen to me, I entreat you, for a few moments, 
without impatience or interruption, and this condescension 
will amply repay me for what little I have been so happy to 
do for you ! ” 

“ I go to-morrow — speak now,” said Isabel in a scarce 
audible whisper. 

Strange inconsistency of the human heart, Malcolm now 
repented of his boldness. He would have given ten years 
of his hfe to have postponed what he had so ardently sought. 


128 


TUE BUCCANEERS. 


But lie liacl passed the Kubicon — retreat was now impos- 
sible — and in a voice almost inarticulate from agitation lie 
continued, “Do not fear, lady, that my presumption will 
pass the limits of propriety. You have told me that your 
father is possessed of enormous wealth, and I know that 
yours is one of the noblest families of Spain. I know that I 
am poor, obscure, portionless, nameless. You see that I 
cannot possibly contemjilate the folly of uniting your desti- 
nies with mine. What I wish to tell you is — that I love you 
with a passion so sacred, so devoted, that it becomes homage, 
adoration. If you refuse to accept this homage you destroy 
that which gives life to my body, soul to my spirit. What I 
ask of you is to be permitted to follow you at a distance; 
and, ever ready to obey your wishes, do not fear that this 
' liberty will ever be an annoyance to you. I will never speak 
to you — your name will be buried too deep in my heart ever 
to rise to my lips. I will be your slave — you can command 
me by a look.” 

The emotion of Malcolm was too gTeat to suffer him to 
proceed — big tears rolled down his cheeks. 

Isabel was calm and serene. She seemed to reflect upon 
and arg-ue mentally the question. “ Ismail Malcolm,” said 
she after a pause, “ I believe in your friendship, but I am 
skeptical upon the adoration with which you embellish it, 
and which I can only attribute to a momentaiy weakness — 
the inseparable effect of your severe illness. Apart from 
the exaggeration of your professions, I take exceptions to 
the distance which you appear to think must of necessity 
exist between our respective social positions. A gentleman, 
sir — the equal of amj man — ^he wears a sword, he has a heart, 
the high privilege to fight for his king, his country, his 
honor, his lady. The words I utter may not be popular 
with the patrician daughters of England. You and they 
pardon me. We Spaniards are not dazzled with unmeaning 
compliments. We mean what we my — take as such words 
spoken to us by gentlemen — and we reply not with our lips 
but with all the truth and loyalty of our hearts.” 


CONVALESCENCE. 


129 


As indefinite as was the reply of Isabel, it exalted the 
beatitude of Malcolm to the most extravagant height. But 
he felt the necessity of restraining his transports within the 
limits of decorum. 

As to the beauteous Castilian, it would have been easy for 
a critical observer to perceive by the fixed vacancy of her 
gaze — her head bent as it were under the weight of some 
oppressive idea, her pensive brow, her statuesque little foot 
tapping the sand as if giving cadence to her roaming 
thoughts or emphasizing some fixed conclusion — that she 
was under the spell of reverie. 

Suddenly the fair girl, as if she had grasped the puzzling 
idea, archly raising her head and putting her hand on Mal- 
colm’s shoulder, said, vnthout preamble or proviso, “ Ismail, 
are you superstitious ? ” 

This question took Malcolm all aback. He could only 
reply with a smile, “ I am a sailor, and therefore have faith 
in many things that I can neither explain or comprehend.” 

“ You are right, sir,” was the reply. 

“ May I enquire, lady, .why you ask that question ? ” said 
Malcolm. 

“ Certainly,” replied Isabel ; “ my meeting with you, 
under all the circumstances of the case, proves to me that 
you are born under a lucky star. Oh, no more stereotyped 
flattery or ill timed compHments,” said this naive child of 
beauty, putting her hand upon Malcolm’s mouth, as if to 
dam the flood of compliments he was about to utter. “ You 
seek glory, honor, wealth, of course. Well, if you will aid 
me in the accomplishment of 'a grand and noble project to 
which I am a party — and succeed — mark well my words — 
there shall not be a man in England who will outrank 
you in wealth.” 

“ No man in England outrank me in wealth ! ” reechoed 
Malcolm, with undisguised astonishment. “You bewilder 
me. Explain, I pray you.” 

“ I cannot reveal a secret which is not altogether 


130 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


mine,” said Isabel, calml}". “ You have promised obedience — 
absolute, unqualified — to my wishes expressed or understood. 
You will oblige me by not repeating the request you have just 
made. Who knows if this project — the dream of my nights, 
the thoughts of my days — may ever be undertaken. We 
women are too apt to consider our visionary and flattering- 
hopes as certainties. We never calculate upon obstacles or 
impossibilities. We deceive ourselves with too pleasing de- 
lusions. All that I desire to know is, that when the day of 
action comes, and I shall say to you forward, you will go forth 
without halting or hesitating, like a true knight who has 
plighted his word and will sacrifice his hfe to his honor.” 

“ Too happy, lady,” exclaimed Malcolm, exultingly. “Let 
the sacrifice of my miserable life be the least of my penalties.” 

“ I believe you, sir,” said Isabel ; and then, thanks to that 
mobility and vivacity so natural to her and which rendered 
her so fascinating, the sombre cloud of sadness fled from her 
face — it shone with the radiant expression of joy. 

“ Do you know,” continued she archly, “ that within the 
last five days you have piqued liiy woman’s curiosity very 
much?” 

“ How so, lady ? ” replied Malcolm. 

“ Why, in everything, in every way,” said she. “ I can- 
not find a word in my vocabulary to define the enigma of 
your existence. How in the name of wonder could you 
seclude yourself in that frightful isolation on a storm-lashed 
cape of the Atlantic coast ? You, a youth of noble blood 
and refined tastes, pass your brightest days in the society of 
murderers and robbers ? In the bloom of youth, you are 
already dead to the world. I have come to the conclusion 
that some great calamity has darkened the morning of your 
day.” 

‘‘You deceive yourself, lady,” said Malcolm, bitterlj^ 
“No human being is sufficiently interested in my life even 
to throw a passing cloud over it. Unknown and unloved, 
I have hved, and so I shall die.” 


CONVALESCENCE. 


131 


“ But your parents — your connections ?” added Isabel. 

“ My family is personified in myself. My father died at 
the cape. He lived long enough to save me, an infant, from 
a wreck. My connections are wealthy, as I believe, not as 
I know. They are strangers to my affections if not to my 
blood.” 

But your mother ? ” added Isabel 

“I never knew her. She died upon the high seas. 
My birth cost her, her Hfe.” 

“ You will pardon me, I am sure, if I continue my cate- 
cliism,” continued Isabel after a short silence, in a tone too 
affectionate and gentle to be resisted in thought or deed; 
“the tie that binds us together is a covenant to interest 
myself in your sorrows, and to learn your antecedents.” 

“ Would you learn my liistory ? ” replied Malcolm, with a 
sigh. “ Well — it is soon told in a few words. I am a waif of 
the ocean, thrown uj)on the sands of the cape. In 1668, 
the ship in which my father and mother took passage from 
the Antilles for Maryland was wrecked at the cape, as you 
were. I was born on the passage. My mother died. My 
father, himself ill with fever, bore me in his arms from the 
sinking shij). An old Spanish priest. Father Lopez, received 
us at the hospice, founded at the cape b}'' one of the early 
Spanish navigators — the funds for the support of which had 
long since been escheated or withheld. My father died from 
fever and exhaustion. The j)riest took charge of me. He was 
a grand old man, that priest, vath a head like Belisarius and 
the frame of Maximin. He taught me the languages, the 
sciences, to draw maps and charts of the coast and channels 
of the bay and its tributaries. From that I imbibed a taste 
for painting from nature. He had but one object upon 
which he seemed to set any earthly value^that was his 
library. Ah, me, ^t stings me to think that it has been 
burnt. My cradle was rocked by the waves of the ocean — 
my lullaby was the fpar of ihe storm. I grew up in this 
dread isolation which sometimes maddens men. The perils 


132 


THE B UGCANEERS. 


and wonders of tlie deep, all that was terrible in the sub- 
lime, became to me recreation. A few years ago, the priest 
sickened and died. In his last hours he told me what my 
father had told him in his last confession — that my family 
were noble, but under the ban political. He turned over to 
me my father’s effects — one carbine, a pair of pistols, and a 
casket containing a signet ring by which I would be recog- 
ized when I became an adult; and then he gave me his bless- 
ing, and the hospice, with the injunction to help and succor 
distressed ships. And I have obeyed him too well for my 
worldly advantage. With the exception of my little heritage, 
I am as poor as the day when I was thrown like a leaf 
upon the strand. Thus I have lived up to the time we 
met. Here is the ring which no living eyes have ever 
beheld save mine until now.” 

With these words he drew from his bosom a ring casket, 
covered with shark skin. He opened it with a spring and 
in it lay a large massive gold ring, bearing a large ruby 
signet. Upon the facet was engraved the device of a rock 
rising out of the sea; on the scroll of the device were the 
words, “ On this rock we build our kingdom, let the world 
pay tribute.” 

Isabel had dwelt upon every word of Malcolm with a 
tender solicitude and interest which displayed itself in a 
beaming smile of half curiosity and half wonder; but when 
she saw that mysterious ring and read its more mysterious 
device, the expression of the fair Castilian changed as if by 
magic. She grew deadly pale; her eyes shimmered with 
an elfish light. She pressed her hand upon her heart as if 
to still its throbbings. 

Malcolm, wrapt in the gloomy souvenirs of his youth, 
which he was narrating, did not observe the emotion which 
was as transient as it was violent; and w^hen Isabel again 
addressed him her voice was calm and unruffled. 

“My indiscreet curiosity has at least one merit,” said she; 
“it has drawn out all the noble traits of your character. 


CONVALESCENCE.. 


133 


In speaking of your isolation from human sympathy, you 
should have added that you had avenged the injustice of 
society to you by consecrating your life to save the crews 
of shipwrecked vessels. And I have learnt from Sir John 
Hampton that your courage and devotion as an officer are 
well known throughout the provincial colonies on the 
Atlantic.” 

“ I have less merit than you think. That priest, my foster 
father, whose life was one long martyrdom, taught me to be a 
Christian and that suicide is a deadly sin,” replied Malcolm 
in a tone between a whisper and a respiration. 

“ And now what course do you intend to pursue ?” said 
Isabel, after a silence of some minutes. 

“ And now” replied Malcolm, emphasizing the words which 
seemed to weave a tie between himself and the fair being to 
whom he was speaking; “and now I await orders. Ido 
not belong to myself.” 

“ But if I should say to you,” replied she as if to prevent 
the utterance of words she anticipated,' “I wish you to 
succeed in life — I wish you to be great and powerful — what 
would you do ?” 

“ I will put in execution,” said Malcolm, “ a project which, 
for many a long day and longer night, has tortured my im- 
agination and disturbed my slumbers. I wdl leave my 
native land, if I may caU it such. I will seek in foreign 
lands, under a softer sky, that heritage which my own coun- 
try denies to me.” 

“ You would seek foreign lands ?” said Isabel slowly, as 
though she was weighing the meaning and intent of the 
words. “Well — be it so. But what foreign lands? Save 
one spot — the cape — the great globe itself is foreign lands 
to you. Does no one particular spot fix itself upon your 
day-dreams and night visions ?” 

“ Yes, lady,” said Malcolm, “ the Antilles.” 


134 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

REVELATIONS AND TEMPTATIONS. 

This reply — “ tlie Antilles ” — produced a singular effect 
upon the fair girl to whom it was addressed. A nervous 
shudder, which she was powerless to control, convulsed her 
frame; her lips were compressed with a deathly paUor. Mal- 
colm thought she was fainting. “ In the name of Heaven, 
Isabel,” he exclaimed, grasping her form and clammy hand, 

‘‘ what is. the matter with you? Shall I call for assistance ?” 

“ N o — I thanli — ^you — it is — nothing — only a passing spasm 
of faintness,” she gasped. And then, after a violent struggle 
to regain her self-possession, she added, “ Is it to the An- 
tilles you design emigrating ? ” 

“ Yes, to the Antilles,” replied Malcolm mechanically ; his 
eyes fixed in wonder upon the lady whose agitation puzzled 
and embarrassed him. 

“ Oh ! how inscrutable is destiny,” exclaimed Isabel with 
an exultation of voice and manner that thrilled the soul of ■ 
Malcolm — he knew not why. How is it possible to deny 

the predestined wiU or providence of God, when events so 
unpropitious have responded to my most ardent hopes? 
Shipwrecked upon a desolate spot on the Atlantic coast, lo ! 
there I find what I might have vainly sought elsewhere. 
Oh, Malcom,” continued she more earnestly, “ I believe that 
our destinies are bound together and that' we shall meet . 
again.” 

“ May God grant it,” exclaimed Malcolm with joy and 
surprise. “ But pardon me — I entreat you to tell me the 
cause of your agitation a moment ago ? ” 

“ Ismail Malcolm, devotion always obeys but never questions” 
replied she, with a smile that softened an expression which 
otherwise would have seemed harsh and unfeeling. 


BEVELATIONS AND TEMPTATIONS. 


135 


“ You are just,” said Malcolm, with perfect acquiescence. 

A silence of some seconds followed, which was broken by 
Isabel : “ Ismail, if you were to set out to-morrow on your 
long journey would you not be embarrassed by the want of 
money ? ” 

“ I have saved some,” replied Malcolm, coloring. 

“ That is to say, some hundred pounds ? ” said Isabel with 
a half smile and half sneer. 

“ Not even so much as that,” he replied. 

“ Then permit me ” 

“ Stay those words you are about to utter,” exclaimed 
Malcolm who, des;pite his love, grew pale with anger and 
mortification. “ Isabel Sandoval of Monterey, I am a gentle- 
man. I can sacrifice my life — I can peril the salvation of » 
my soul — but I cannot sell my honor.” 

“ I admire and honor your rebuke, it is so Castilian’' said 
Isabel, serenely smiling upon him with all her loveliness. “ I 
now see my error. But let us return to present difficulties. 

If what you have saved be insufficient to meet your ex- 
penses, what will you do ? ” 

“ I will submit to the law of poverty — I will borrow.” 

“ You will borrow ? You may meet none but strangers.” 

“You will make me drain the cup of bitterness to the 
dregs,” said Malcolm bitterly. “But fear not. For your 
sake I will shrink from no hardship. I was going to 
tell you that I have an order for one thousand guineas 
upon the house of ArgiUac & Co., Havana, for salvage. I 
must go to Jamestown to get a certificate of identification; 
thence I will go to Saint Augustine to take passage for 
Havana; thence to Leogane, the promised land.’* 

Malcolm waited some seconds for a gracious word which 
he supposed his reply would elicit, but was disappointed; 
the mind of Isabel seemed preoccupied. At last she coolly 
replied, “The step you contemplate is unavoidable. The 
sooner you set out the better. Moments are precious and 
delays are dangerous.” 


136 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


“ I will go this afternoon,” said Malcolm. 

‘‘ That is better,” was the cool reply. 

Isabel arose as if to take leave; but Malcolm held her 
with his glittering eyes of entreaty, as he said, “ You leave ? 
and yet you have not told me when I can see you again.” 

“ I can safely leave that to Providence who, as I believe, 
has decreed our reunion. Lest I mislead you, I must con- 
sult the intentions of my father. You will find a letter from 
me at the banking house of Argillac & Co., in Havana, when 
you arrive there. I W’ill write as soon as I can speak with 
certainty as to our movements.” 

“Yet one question more,” said Malcolm, struggling to de- 
vise ways and means to postpone the hour of separation; 
“ tell me, I pray you, what — has been to me a puzzle and a 
mystery — how have you learned to speak the English lang- 
uage so fluently?” 

“There are several ways and means to account for that,” 
said Isabel with an arch smile. “ My mother was an Eng- 
lish Creole — ^born in the Antilles. I have been educated at 
the court of Spain. To my most excellent godmother — 
the queen Maria Louisa — who loved me dearly and taught 
me in her lonely hours of seclusion, I owe the purity of my 
Castihan. My father was consul-general of Spain. He had 
business at every friendly court and friendly port; hence I 
know aU the court languages of the day. Au 7'emir.’' Then 
the fair daughter of Spain arose and turned her face to- 
ward Hampton House. 

She had gone but a few paces when a puff of wind, play- 
ing among the tresses of her long black hair, blew there- 
from a rosette of red ribbon which she wore as a coronal. 
Malcolm ran quickly to secure it; at the same moment Isa- 
bel partially turned and smiled most approvingly, then 
darted forward like a frightened fawn and was soon out of 
sight amid the mazes of the park. 

This confiscation of the treasured rosette, sanctioned by a 
smile, was to Malcolm a gift and confession. With tliis aS' 


BEVEL A TIONS AND TEMP TA TIONS. 137 

surance, a sense of joy indescribable swelled bis heart and 
sublimated his soul. 

From this might be inferred that Malcolm was deficient 
in energy of character. But one must bear in mind that 
this was his first love — that this fair being had appeared to 
him, in his austere and terrible sohtude, a beautiful revela- 
tion from the land of dreams. 

How mercilessly would this impassioned and loyal youth 
have been jeered and ridiculed at court? How many bitter 
lessons had he to learn ? 

A few moments more Isabel stood on the portico of Hamp- 
ton House; her brow bent, her hands clasped, her lips com- 
pressed, her fairy foot beating time. Then she haughtily 
raised her head, and her eyes flashed as she murmured, 
“ ‘Let your hght so shine before men,’ says Maccliiavelli, 
‘ that they may see your actions but not your motives.’ ‘Pay 
your court only to those from whom you have something to 
hope — or worse to fear.’ ‘ Make confederates or allies of 
none — unless you have the means to crush them.’ ‘ How 
mankind may be deceived — how states may be subdued — by 
weaker powers.’ ” 

Then she turned her eyes toward the spot where she had 
left Malcolm and mentally gazed at him as Catharine de 
Medici gazed upon the retreating figure of saint Aldegonde. 
She had found one, young, beautiful, strong and brave ; one 
who could accomplish a terrible idea — or die. 

One hour later Malcolm, on horse, and Jalman, on foot, 
left Hampton House and pursued their way to Jamestown, 
the capital of Yirginia. 


138 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


CHAPTER XIV. ■ 

HAVANA. 

Havana, the mid-ocean Tyre of the West, presents an 
appearance singularly unique and magnificent. You enter 
the harbor through a narrow gorge or natural gate-way of 
perpendicular rocks crowned with grim fortresses bristling 
with long rows of cannon grinning through their casemates, 
and then the water expands into a lake in which the navies 
of the world could ride at anchor. 

At this time eight streets running east and west crossed 
eight others running north and south at right angles. The 
houses, built of white stone, with flat roofs, gave the Queen 
City of the Antilles the appearance of a castelated quad- 
rangle sitting upon a silver lake under the shade of a forest 
of tropical trees. Fortresses, cathedral temples, palaces — 
the residences of her princely merchants — occupying whole 
squares, presented to the eye that mathematical regularity 
we read of in the descriptions of Babylon — when the will 
of one man designed and one architect built the whole. 
And to Malcohn and Jalman, who had never seen a city 
larger than Jamestown or Saint Augustine, the effect was 
grand and overpowering. Beauty, sublimity and strength 
were so delicately mingled that it was impossible to tell 
where one began or the other ended. A scene so imposing 
in the outline, so beautiful in detail, was to these primitive 
children, reared in the dreary isolation of cape Henry, like 
one of those fallen cities of oriental splendor which appear 
to travellers in the mirage of the desert. ” 

Malcolm’s long journey from Hampton House to James- 
town, thence to Saint Augustine, had been accomplished 
over lopg and lonely roads, through dark and gloomy for- 
ests— now traversed by railroads. At Saint Augustine he 


HAVANA. 139 

sold Ills horse and took shipping for Havana; and that ship 
had arrived in safety. 

During this long journey, it is needless to say, the beauti- 
ful vision of Isabel monopolized the thoughts and dreams 
of Malcolm. He recalled, he dwelt upon, every incident — 
no matter how unimportant in details — of his interviews 
with this fair daughter of the land of passion and flowers. 
He recapitulated from memory every word they uttered to 
each other and in fancy — that Isabel heard him in spiiit — 
he renewed his former vows. 

After having reveled in imaginary happiness he cooled 
down to the stern reahties of the case; and then he was 
startled to find that he had reared such a massive structure 
upon such a meagre foundation. 

After aU the intoxicating day dreams he had indulged in, 
he found that he had but one favor to boast of, and that was 
equivocal and accidental — that was the rosette whirled from 
her hair by the wind, which he wore next to Lis heart. 
After a long and rigid examination and cross-examination, 
he was compelled to admit that Isabel Sandoval, while 
accepting his devotion, had not in one word committed or 
compromised herself. 

Once on the road of reason and argument, the conclu- 
sions of Malcolm were just and decided. It was in vain he 
sought to explain to himself the eccentricities, inconsisten- 
cies, and ’contradictions he had remarked in the words and 
actions of his beloved. There was in her a mystery. No 
mental analysis or logic could unravel the last question he 
put to himself — was Isabel true or false ? Lover as he was, 
it was unanswerable. 

But there was one conclusion he came to without difficulty 
— that Isabel Sandoval was the idol of his fondest, brightest 
idolatry, and that he was but too happy in consecrating his 
future, his life, his all, to her. 

Lovers reason correctly, they say, but ever come to false 
conclusions. 


140 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


The first thing Malcolm did on his arrival at Havana, was 
to purchase a neat court sword and suit of black velvet — 
the national costume of Spain — (his own sword and scanty 
wardrobe having been burnt with his house at the cape) — 
to make himself presentable to the banker and shipping 
merchant upon whom his order was drawn. It is needless 
to say that his personal beauty aj)peared to the eye much 
enhanced by the change from the coarse costume of a 
wrecker to that of a gentlemen of rank such as he claimed 
to be. 

The next was to ascertain the locality of the house of 
Argillac & Co. 

It was easily found. It was on the quay — one of the 
largest commercial depots of this maritime mart of the west- 
ern world. It was at the busiest hour of the day when he 
entered the ample warehouse of the merchants. 

He was agitated and embarrassed in his novel position, 
and with the recollection of Isabel’s promise of the letter, 
there was a millenium or a doom in a moment. 

Malcolm, after pushing his way through a crowd of sailors, 
porters and traders on the first floor of the warehouse, 
ascended a flight of stone steps to the clerk’s ofiide. “I 
wish to see Senor Argillac,” said he to a clerk seated before 
a desk busy making out bhls of lading for the masters of 
merchant ships who were waiting around his desk railing. 

The clerk, glancing at him out of one corner of his eye, 
and seeing nothing of business about him, ignored his exist- 
ence and continued his work without a reply. 

Malcolm, after waiting some seconds, which did not lessen 
his embarrassment, repeated the question without any addi- 
tional success. 

If not with success, he at least made an impression. The 
quill driver growled between his teeth like an old dog brist- 
ling up for a fight. This angry demonstration proved to 
Malcolm that his presence at least was remarked. He 
sought to be patient as well as civil ; but the rudeness of 


HAVANA, 


141 


tlie petty official began to put these well intentionecl exer- 
tions on a strain. The thought that a person who came to 
get a “dead” order cashed would put himself in a disad- 
vantageous position by an unseemly act of anger or impa- 
tience controlled his rising indignation ; and he repeated 
the question for the fourth time in a louder tone. 

“What the devil do you want, fellow?” exclaimed the 
clerk in a tone which aggravated the bitterness of the 
insult. 

This insult to Malcolm was so unprovoked as well as un- 
expected that he was for a second silent. 

This silence was quickly followed by action. Malcolm, 
seizing the insolent clerk in his iron grip, raised liim from 
his seat like a feather, and dashed him against the wall. 

“ My G-od ! ” exclaimed the clerk, “ this country lout must 
be in a fit.” 

The act was done so quickly that not one of the many 
bystanders had time to interfere ; and it was not until they 
saw Malcolm carry his hand to the hilt of his sword and 
draw the blade that they thought to interfere between him 
and his victim. 

Under any other circumstances this interference would 
not have been regarded by Malcolm, but finding himself in 
a position so false, so awkward, he checked the impidse and 
returned his sword, 

“ What does the gentleman want ? ” said an elderly man 
coming forward. 

“ To see Senor Argillac,” said Malcolm. “ Will you be so 
kind as to announce Sir Ismail Malcolm, of Virginia.” 

“ I would do so with pleasure,” said the old man, “ but 
Senor Argillac, the head of the firm, is absent from the city 
and will not return for a week.” 

“Not in Havana?” said Malcolm in dismay. 

“ No sir,” replied the old man ; “ he went away about five 
days ago and will not return under a week. But,” con- 
tinued the old man politely, “ if Sir Ismail has any business 


142 


THE BUGCANEERS. 


with the house, he can transact it with the person left in 
charge.” 

“I came on very important business — to me at least,” 
said Malcolm, stammering with agitation ; “ to whom can I 
apply?” 

“ His wife — ^Madam Argillac, sir,” was the reply with a 
Castilian bow. 

This information struck Malcolm to the earth. The order 
on the house was out of date. It should have been pre- 
sented a month earlier, which his illness prevented. He 
must appear as a solicitor for a favor, not as a creditor 
demanding payment for a just debt. It was discretionary 
with the banker to pay it or not. He could only appeal to 
his generosity ; and with the flash of thought he saw him- 
self in the presence of a woman, from whom prudence alone 
would dictate refusal or delay. 

“Will you see the lady, sir?” said the old man, after 
some seconds of painful silence. 

Malcolm was about to refuse — but two considerations 
withheld him. In the first place he feared that if he went 
away without the interview, after the lesson he had given 
the insolent clerk, it would look like flight. In the second 
place Isabel would doubt the grand devotion of which he 
had made such a parade, if he halted and hesitated at the 
first obstacle. 

He must decide quickly. Silence was painful to both 
parties. And' Malcolm done what desperate men have done 
before him — ^burnt their ships to cut off retreat. He replied, 
“ I will see Madam Argillac.” 


■ THE LETTER. 


143 


CHAPTER Xy. 

THE LETTER. 

Malcolm, preceded by the old man — ^the senior clerk of 
the house of Argillac & Co. — passed between two long lines 
of desks to a door at the upper end of the room, which he 
opened without knocking. “ Madam,” said he, “ here is a 
gentleman who wishes to speak with you;” and then with- 
drew, shutting the door after him. 

Malcolm found himself in the presence of a short, corpu- 
lent woman, with a coarse, hard expression, aged about fifty 
years. 

Before this plenipotentiary of the banker — however ill at 
ease he may have felt — ^he bowed lower than he would have 
done under other circumstances. When he entered she was 
busy adding up a column of figures. 

Laying down hor pen, she cast a long, searching glance 
upon him with her cold gray eyes. “Who are you, 
and what do you want ?” was the curt reply to Malcolm’s 
salaam. 

“ I am Sir Ismail Malcolm, of Virginia,” said he, pausing 
to find words to introduce his business. 

“WeU, Sir Ismail Malcolm, of Virginia, whar do you 
want?” was the quiet rejoinder. 

“Money, madam,” said Sir Ismail, coming to the point 
without circumlocution. “ I have an order on the house of 
Argillac & Co., for one thousand guineas. It should have 
been presented on the first of June last, but a series of unex- 
pected circumstances intervened to prevent its presentation; 
and I am sure that the house will take a favorable view of 
the case and pay the order.” 

“ By whom is the order drawn ?” said Madam. 

“Juan Bartolo, master ship Innedall,”’ was the reply. 


144 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


“I cannot take the responsibility of cashing an order a 
month and a half out of date; and besides, my impression is 
that Bartolo has drawn his funds,” replied the woman in a 
cold business tone which penetrated Malcolm like an ice 
spear. And then taking up her pen she added, “ Scnor 
Argillac will be home in a week. You must call again.” 

“ I am on my way to San Domingo,” said Malcolm, de- 
spondingly, “ and cannot remain here that time.” 

“ Are you really so short of money and friends ?” said the 
woman turning on her high stool, with a cold, ironical smile, 
“that you cannot remain a week in Havana?” 

“Yes, madam, I am exactly in that condition,” said Mal- 
colm, with calm despair. 

“ Then, sir, you will oblige me,” said she, “ by not insist- 
ing on the payment of that order. You ought to know that 
I could not, on my own individual responsibility, loan, as I 
may call it, one thousand guineas to a transient stranger who 
tells me to my face that he has not a shilling or a friend.” 

These cruel words, uttered without the slightest intention 
of wounding, cost Malcolm a momentary paroxysm of ver- 
tigo. He regretted that he did not kill the insolent clerk, 
and was about to utter a bitter retprt — but the intention was 
as quickly, abandoned. The poor young gentleman, cowering 
under a load bf mortification, turned sadly to the door. 

It was flung open, before he reached it, and Malcolm could 
not restrain an exclamation of surprise when he found him- 
self vis a vis with Abdallah Legoffe. 

“ Abdallah Legoffe !” exclaimed he. 

“The same; at your service, young gentleman,” said the 
soi-disant horse drover, with a low bow. I did not expect 
to have the pleasure of meeting you in Havana. You seem 
to have perfectly recovered from your wound.” - 

At the sight of Abdallah, Madam Argillac graciously arose 
and welcomed him with a smile. 

“ Do you know that gentleman ?” said she to the horse 
drover, with a perplexed air, as if she felt annoyed at the 
reception she had given Malcolm. 


THE LETTER. 145 

Perfectly, my dear madam,” replied Abdallah heartily. 
“ He and I had a very pleasant httle sea trip together.” 

“Ah ! Why then, sir,” said the bankeress, turning reproach- 
fully to Malcolm, “ did you tell me that you had no friends 
in Havana ? If Senor AbdaUah wiU consent to be your se- 
curity to return the money in case Senor Argillac refuses to 
cash the order, I am ready now to let you have it.” 

This last humiliation filled Malcolm’s cup of bitterness. 

AbdaUah, with quizical air and ironical smUe, eyed him 
with such fixed intensity that drops of cold clammy sweat 
coUected on his brow. The unsophisticated youth would 
have given ten years of his life to have given vent to his in- 
dignation upon some object worthy of him. 

“ The young gentleman is weU aware that horse drovers 
are not usuaUy miUionaires,” said Abdallah, after a sUence 
of some seconds, which appeared to Malcolm so many 
hours; “but as I happen to have a little cash by me, I wUl 
relieve Madam of all responsibility in the matter and dis- 
count the order at the legal rate of interest, if he wiU do 
me the honor to accept my aid.” 

“I thank you,” said Malcolm, haughtUy the draft is worth 
to me one thousand guineas or nothing. As much as I regret 
the necessity, I wiU remain until Senor ArgiUac returns. 
I will trust to his honor — ^his friendship. If he refuses to 
pay it, I will simply destroy it and go my way.” 

“ Permit me to inform Sir Ismail Malcolm,” said AbdaUah, 
witli the same bitter smUe and mocking eyes, “ that Senor 
Ai'gUlac is a — Jew — ^that Jews have neither friendship or 
honor in business — they have nothing but customers — they 
have neither friends or enemies — they have persecutors gen- 
eraUy, rarely benefactors.” 

“MyG-od!” exclaimed Madam ArgiUac, “did you caU 
him Sir Ismail Malcolm?” 

“Sir IsmaU Malcolm, madam.” 

“ Oh, how stupid in me !” she responded, with much trepi- 
dation, hfting the lid of her desk and taking out a letter. 


146 


THE BUCCANEERS, 


“Here is a letter for him — sent thi^ morning from the palace 
of the captain-general.” 

Malcolm snatched the letter from the hands of the bank- 
eress, tore open the seal and at a glance read the following 
lines : 

“ Palace of Captain-Geneeal, 

‘^July 16, 1689. 

“ Five days ago we arrived in this city, and this morning I 
read your name in the list of passengers of the Dona 
Maria from San Augustine. 

“ Meet me at seven this evening in the private saloon of 
the Cafe Cabral, called San Ignacio. Be punctual. I have 
much to say to you. I need your services. 

“ Confide in your star. 

“ Isabel Sandoval.” 

“"Well, Sir Ismail,” said Abdallah to him as he was refold- 
ing the billet, “ do you refuse my offer now?’' 

“ Now and forever ! ” rephed Malcolm, stung by the pointed 
emphasis Abdallah laid upon the word “ now.” And then 
with a stiff bow he left the house of Argillac & Co. with an 
affected indifference he was far from feeling. 

Malcolm, upon his arrival in the morning, had, in defer- 
ence to the law of poverty, taken lodgings at a modest inn 
— the Caballero d’Ord — in the suburbs. Thither he bent his 
steps after his fruitless attempt at negotiating his draft. 

“ Ah ! ” said he, bitterly, quickening his steps — for it 
seemed to him that every one who passed read his shame on 
his brow — “ who can doubt the bitterness of j)overty and 
the power of gold. That horse dealer is received with open 
arms by the wife of the wealthiest merchant in this maritime 
Babylon, while I — a gentleman, in whose veins flow the 
blood of a long line of Scottish kings — am treated as curtly 
as a stray dog. Why? He has money to lend — to sell. 
I must beg, borrow or earn it. Isabel was right, more than 
right. I should have looked to the future instead of fritter- 
ing the fairest portion of my life at that sterile solitude of cape 


THE LETTER. 


147 


Hemy. But I must regain what I have lost — by energy — 
by audacity. I feel the dormant powers of my will awaken. 
I will succeed.” 

After having apphed this soothing unction to the bleed- 
ing wound of his mortified seK- love, his thoughts, in all their 
intensity, reverted to Isabel. He mentally read and re-read 
the billet he had just received from her, and he came to the 
conclusion that those- precious lines were written by a Woman 
who loved him. 

This moral certainty transformed his purgatory to Para- 
dise, and when he entered the inn it was with brighter eyes 
and loftier mein than when he left the house of Argillac & 
Co. 

The sight of his master caused the heart of Jalman to leaji^ 
with joy. Bewildered by the labyrinth of streets, as they 
appeared to him, the grandeur and magnificence of the city, 
this primitive servant dare not go out of sight of the inn. 

“My poor boy,” said Malcom, kindly and sadly, for he 
knew he could infallibly count upon the devotion of his ser- 
vant — and the thought of being loved by one devoted 
servant was balm to his heart — “I have come back as I 
went — empty handed. And what is worse, must wait here 
a week before I can learn whether I can get the money or 
not. We must practice the most rigid economy.” 

“Give 3^ourself no uneasiness about money, master,’' 
rephed Jalman; “I have enough for both.” 

“ You ! How ? ” exclaimed his master. 

“ Just this way, master. You know I went back to the 
cape after your horse. Well, the first thing I saw there was 
the body of Bill Croshaw washed up on the beach by the 
waves. He always kept his money about him in a canvas 
sack coiled around his body — it did not take me long to get 
it off. Here it is ! ” 

With these words the provident and faithful domes- 
tic raised up the skirt of his shift and there, coiled around 
his body, was a greasy canvas sack, wide enough to admit 


148 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


three or four guineas edgewise. His whole person, from 
his armpits to hips, was covered with an impenetrable 
coat of mail — his vitals were literally gold clad. 

“Thank God, I refused his offer,” mentally ejaculated 
Malcolm. 

“ Now, master,” continued the matter-of-fact servant, “ I 
must look up your dinner. Write down in Spanish what 
you want. These dons here don’t understand my colonial 
American.” 

“ Have faith in your star,” said Malcolm, as his servant, 
went out to prepare, or have prepared, his dinner. “ I will r 


CHAPTER XVL 

THE CAFE CABRAL. 

Punctual to the hour Sir Ismail repaired to the rendez- 
vous mentioned in Isabel’s letter, which he regarded as the 
final consummation of his fondest and brightest hopes. 

He found himself in front of a palatial edifice which, with 
the lot on which it was built, occupied one whole square. 
The cafe constituting one front and the three faces of a 
brick wall enclosed the remainder of the square. Within 
these walls a grove of orange trees and tropical plants filled 
the air with their dehcious perfume, and splashing fountains 
shimmered in the moonlight as their jets fell into huge mar- 
ble basins. 

It was the evening lounge of these holiday lords of Spain, 
who made this delicious retreat of the faiiy Atlantic isle 
their Eden. None but the haughty nobles of that haughtier 
race were permitted to cross the threshold of that luxurious 
lounge — the cafe Cabral. 

As he was about to enter the front a peal of laughter, just 
behind him, caused him to turn his head. He saw a woman, 
dressed in a black velvet bodice buttoned with diamonds. 


THE CAFE CABRAL. 


149 


a white satin shirt embroidered with gold and an ample 
mantilla of point lace enveloped her whole person like a 
fleecy cloud. She was followed by four young gentlemen 
wdiose impertinent words and jeers were too obvious and un- 
mistakable. Although her face was covered by a black 
velvet mask, Sir Ismail saw by her graceful carriage and 
elastic step that she was young. By the group of young 
bloods whom she had encountered near the spot she was, 
to all appearance, neither annoyed or disconcerted. She 
did not aj)pear to see or hear them. 

“ Truly, my charmer,” said one of them, “ the grand style 
in which you go to a rendezvous and your modest silence 
make you, in my eyes at least, a precious puzzle. AVho the 
devil can you be ? A lady of rank ? That is impossible, 
because you are too aii fait with this sort of thing to come 
in full regalia to an assignation. Not a grizette, becauee 
our little attentions would have put you into a fit of laugh- 
ter, or rage, long ago. Come, stop this perplexing prudery. 
I am the Marquis de Barrillon, and here is Gonsolvo, Mad- 
ronna and Hernandes — all of us decent and gallant cava- 
liers.” 

The mask — while the man who called himself the Marquis - 
de Barrillon, one of the most noted roues and wealthiest 
noblemen of Spain, was speaking — moved on without notic- 
ing either the words or the man who uttered them; but at 
the sight of Malcolm, tripped up to him and said, “ You are 
a gentleman, sir — lend me your arm.” 

By that voice Sir Ismail recognised Isabel. 

But as to the gallants’, they saw by the look of hatred and 
defiance that Malcolm cast upon them, that at the first word 
from them a drawn sword would gleam in their eyes. Feel- 
ing the awkwardness of their position ; knowing neither the 
rank of the fair mask nor the strength or position of her 
champion, and fearing recognition and smarting under the 
pointed sarcasm of the first words they had heard her utter, 
they precipitately fled, to avoid an esclandre at their 
expense. 


150 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


Sir Ismail, feeling the arm of Isabel trembling with agita- 
tion as she lent upon his own, entered the cafe Cabral. 
Ushered by one of the attendants. Sir- Ismail and his 
companion crossed the mosaic paved haU and entered the 
colonnade fronting upon the orange grove and were inducted 
into a saloon gorgeously furnished with oriental luxuriance 
and lit by a chandelier of perfumed wax-Hghts. 

“ Serve us a collation,” said he to the servant. 

In a few moments more a marble table was covered with 
delicious fruits, ices and wines. The attendant withdrew 
and left the daughter, of the count of Monterey and Sir 
Ismail Malcolm alone together. 

“ Sir Ismail Malcolm,” said Isabel, taking off her mask 
and unveiling her peerless and intoxicating beauty, “I owe 
you an explanation for the singularity of my appearance, 
here in this place. A lady of the palace whom I was 
obliged to make in part a confident, was stupid enough to 
name this place — thinking that my object was simply to 
meet a lover. This exposed me to the impertinences of 
those puppies whom you put to flight. And to crown all, 
in order to conceal my intentions from my father, I had to 
dress myself as though I was going to pay a visit of cere- 
mony. It is owing to this combination of circumstances 
that I appear in this toilet in this equivocal place imder these 
more equivocal circumstances.” 

‘‘ It matters not, lad}^, where you are,” said Sir Ismail, 
“ nor how you are dressed — ^you are under the protection of 
a man and a gentleman. It is true, I would have preferred, 
not for myself but for your own sake, to have been received 
at the palace.” 

“That would have been impossible,” quickly rejoined Isa- 
bel. “My father. Sir Ismail, though he owes hishfe to you, 
would sooner have yielded it up again than to have allowed 
me to have received you at the palace.” 

“ Why, and wherefore, lady?” said Sir Ismail, with surprise 
in his tone. 


THE GAF^l QABEAL. 


151 


“ Because,” said Isabel, with much embarrassment — “ it 
stings me to utter the bitter words — because, my father — 
hates — ^you — with a bitterness of which you cannot form the 
slightest conception.” 

Although Malcolm, in his wildest dreams, had never dared 
to leap the barrier which separated him from Isabel, yet he 
cherished the delusive dream of youth in his heart of hearts 
— ^hope, vague and undefined. The words just uttered by 
Isabel tore that idol from a bleeding heart. 

“Whence originated this — to me unaccountable — aver- 
sion,” said Malcolm, in a husky voice. 

“ When he opened his eyes on the beach at Hampton 
House, and saw the face of the man with you,” replied Isa- 
bel. “ He judges you by the company you keep — a phate 
and thief — and your affectation of refusing pay for your 
services as shallow hypocrisy, without concealment. He 
put no interdict upon my seeing you at Hampton House, 
not that he hates you the less. But he was then as now 
wraj)t soul and body in the accomplishment of a grand pro- 
ject, rather than abandon which he would shut me up in a 
convent and you in the More, if necessary.” 

“ That i)roject, is of course none of my business. In fact, 
what am I to you ?” said Sir Ismail, bitterly after a painful 
pause. “ A stranger whom chance has thrown in your path — 
a poor devil whom you would condescend to use as pity, ca- 
price, or necessity dictated, but whom you would repulse 
with scorn the instant he presumes to ask your friendship 
or your confidence.” 

“ You are unjust, sir,” replied Isabel “ My presence in 
this place, under these circumstances, is self-evident proof 
that I have unbounded confidence in your honor.” 

“ Grand confidence, to be sure !” exclaimed Sir Ismail with 
a sneer. “Grand confidence, indeed! It proves to me, 
beyond all cavil, that you regard me as an imbecile, for 
whom you carp nothing, from whom j^ou have nothing to 
hope and less to fear.” .. 


152 


THE EUCGANEERS. 


With these words Sir Ismail arose from the luxurious ot- 
toman upon which they were seated and began to pace, with 
agitated strides, the floor of the saloon. Presently he ap- 
peared to come to some determination and halted abruptly 
before her. “Lady,” said he, in a faltering and agitated 
tone, “ if it was necessary for me to die for you, I should re- 
sign myself to my doom, vhthout one word of complamt, or 
one cry of anguish — ^but the tortures I feel now have at- 
tained that degree of intensity that longer silence is impos- 
sible. Pardon the words I utter. I wish — I will that this 
interview seal my fate.” 

Sir Ismail paused for a moment. It was self-evident, from 
his agitation, that he felt that the crisis was in the moment, 
that his momentary silence was a struggle — to express at 
one time and in one word all the emotions that filled his 
heart and maddened his brain. 

Isabel, cool, serene, motionless as a statue, awaited his 
declaration. 

“Lady,” said he in a hoarse whisper, ‘‘do you love me 

“ No,” was the reply, without any visible emotion. 

“ You do not love me I” said he, with a tearful voice but 
tearless eye. “ Let it be so. But,” added he as a drowning 
man catches at straws, “ do you not feel for me a sincere 
friendship ?” 

‘ The friendship) of a Spanish woman is love,” replied Isa- 
bel with the same immobility and serenity as before. “ You 
have saved the life of my father — and my own. I feel grati- 
tude, nothing more.” 

“ Ah, well— I prefer this candor to equivocation or false- 
hood,” said Malcolm, attempting to smile himself into com- 
posure while tears stood in his eyes. “ It decides my fate. 
It ends uncertainty — a boon to be thankful for. Your in- 
difference, now, may brighten my future. Yes — I would 
have lost my future in the delusion of a dream. The dis- 
ease would have been fatal. The remedy has been sharp, 
keen and decisive. If you owe your life to me — ^I owe my 


THE CAFE CABRAL. 


153 


reason, my manhood, my future to you. We are quits now. 
Will you take some wine and some fruit ? I am a stranger 
here, and can give you no news about either the court, or 
the fashions.” 

Sir Ismail was agonizing to behold; his efforts to appear 
calm and composed while despair was written on his face, 
would have grieved and distressed his friends — ^they would 
have feared for his reason. 

But it must be borne in mind that his passion for this fas- 
cinating Castihan had so far been of that fond, idolatrous 
character which sacrifices its all upon the shrine. Then we 
can comprehend the reaction which took the form of mad- 
ness. This assumed indifference and fictitious gaity of 
Malcolm, could not, from its nature, be prolonged more than 
a few seconds. 

Crushed — annihilated — ^he, in a burst of agony, ex- 
claimed, “ Such treason ! Treason for my reward ! It is aw- 
ful ! Henceforth I will believe nothing.” 

“ Sir Ismail Malcolm,” said Isabel, kindly and soothingly, 
‘‘your imagination renders you cruel and unjust to me. 
Will you hear me ? I protest against your prejudgment.” 

“ It is useless, lady, to repeat your words,” replied Mal- 
colm. “ Gild not with a benevolent falsehood, the precious 
truth — precious, let me call it, though bitter. The concen- 
trated tonic that heals the diseased body, is bitter. Let me 
drink of the waters of bitterness until I am healed — of this 
leprous curse of having loved and worshipped a woman. 
What more should I know of you — than what you have 
spoken — unless it be that you hate me.” Pausing for a 
reply, wliich came not, he continued, “ Ah, well, go on with 
your explanations, if you desire to do so. I will listen 
patiently.” 

“ Sir,” rephed Isabel, without a quaver in her voice, “ in- 
terrupt me no more. The explanation, painful as it is to 
me to give it, will at least prove my esteem for you. If my 
words startle you, know that we Spanish women are not 


154 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


educated and trained to deception like the French. We 
consider it a holy duty when we find ourselves in that pecu- 
liar crisis of a woman’s life — proposed for by a gentleman — 
to express ourselves honestly and truthfully, without guile 
in our hearts or deceit on our tongues.” 

Isabel, after this preamble, which excited to the highest 
degree the attention of her companion, paused for a few 
seconds and then continued : “ If I have told you, sir, I do 
not love you, let neither your heart or your sphit be, 
wounded. I have no longer the right — I have no longer the 
power. Mark well my words, I pray you. I have no longer 
the right — I have no longer the power — to accept or return hon- 
orable love. I am unworthy of iU’ 

“ What do you say? ” exlaimed Malcohn, feeling his heart 
bounding, like an uncurbed steed, in his breast. 

“I have asked you not to interruj^t me,” said Isabel, 
regarding with compassion she could but feel for the young 
man in his agony. 

However much, in his hours of despondency, he had 
doubted the love of Isabel for him, never did a suspicion 
enter his mind that any past event in her life could put an 
insurmountable obstacle between them. The suspicion 
would have been deemed an abominable sacrilege. And 
now this fair girl, whom he had raised above the type of 
humanity, had coolly and composedly told liim, that she 
was a fallen angel — that she had no longer the right, the 
power, to return or accept honorable love — that she was un- 
worthy of it. 

This terrible revelation raised another demon in the heart 
of Malcolm. It was jealousy. His brain seemed to him to 
quiver with a transport of rage, and an ocean of blood 
seemed to roll before his eyes. 

He trembled for himself. 


THE DISCLOSURK 


155 


CHAPTER XYIL 

THE DISCLOSURE. 

Some seconds elapsed before this paroxym subsided. Mal- 
colm, recovering his reason and fortitude by one of those 
sudden and mysterious resignations which acute grief some- 
times brings in its train, resolved to indulge in that fearful 
voluptuous sensation so peculiar to desperate men, who 
have lost all, to deepen the wound — ^to sound the bottom of 
the pit of despair. 

“Lady,” said he, “I implore you, in the name of that 
gratitude which you say you feel for me, to spare me no 
humiliation, if it be the truth. Tell me, truly, your past. 
Let the anguish which you have witnessed at least claim 
your confidence. Let the horror which your disclosure will 
cause, cure me of the insensate and shameful passion which 
tortures me. As to my discretion, that is equal to the 
emergency. A man can kill a loved woman who has been 
false to liim, but he can never dishonor her.” 

Sir Ismail, after struggling some seconds for utterance, at 
last gasped, “ \Yhat was the name of your seducer ? ” 

At this question the frame of Isabel, who heretofore 
preserved a very serene composure in her interview with her 
frantic lover, quivered with rage ; her dark electric eyes 
flashed, her cheeks blazed with a fiery red flame. 

“ Sir Ismail Malcolm,” exclaimed she after struggHng for 
utterance, “ are the gentlemen of your nation really — as my 
father says — so deficient in delicacy, that they cannot com- 
prehend what dishonor means until it has reached the 
utmost limits of degradation and shame ? You ask me the 

name of my seducer! Do you suppose that I would 

live under the same roof with my father — Julian Sandoval, 


156 


TEE BUCCANEERS. 


count of Monterey — ^meet liis eye, if I, a disgraced child, a 
dishonored daughter, had tarnished the fair name of his 
noble house ! ” 

These words, uttered with all the haughty and imposing 
dignity of an insulted queen, and in a tone that vibrated 
every nerve in Malcolm’s body, transformed him in the 
twinkling of an eye. 

‘‘ Why, then, lady ! ” exclaimed he, with joy beaming from 
his eyes and in his face, “ you are as ever, worthy of honor- 
able love ! ” 

“ I asked you at the commencement of this interview to 
hear me without interruption,” said Isabel, regaining in an 
instant that serene impassibility she had heretofore mani- 
fested. “ I now renew that very reasonable request. You 
desire to learn my antecedents. Then listen — quietly and 
patiently.” 

The fair Spaniard was silent a few moments, as if collect- 
ing her ideas, and then began: “It came to pass one year 
that I was returning from Carthagena to San Domingo 
with my father when we were attacked by the Buccaneers 
of Tortuga. The ‘ Conception,’ so our shq^ was named, car- 
ried eighteen guns and sixty men; and was commanded by 
one of the bravest and most experienced captains of the 
Spanish navy. As to the Buccaneers, there were not over 
thirty of them, in an old leak}^ felucca. The issue of the 
battle appeared to be so much in our favor that our captain 
was delighted with this lucky chance, as he thought, of 
destroying one gang, at least, of these terrible freebooters. 
When the felucca was within a cable’s length of us, our 
captain opened fire upon it. Our first broadside stove the 
felucca.” 

“ And all perished ? ” exclaimed Malcolm exultingly. 

“ On the contrary,” continued Isabel, “ they swam aboard 
of us and, after massacreing two-thirds of our crew, took the 
rest as prisoners for ransom.” 

“ What you have said is incredible, miraculous, impossi- 


THE DISCLOSURE. I57 

ble ! ” exclaimed Malcolm, again disobeying the interdict 
against interruption. 

“ With the Buccaneers, sir,” replied Isabel, “ nothing is 
impossible. To accomplish the work of heU and Satan, 
every day they perform feats similar to what I have told 
you, which you think incredible, miraculous, impossible. But 
to continue, my father, who during the battle fought bravely, 
towards the close of the action was badly wounded and fell 
upon a heap of slain. Poor father ! Oh, that he had re- 
mained in the cabin with me ! On seeing the Buccaneers 
victorious he would certainly have plunged his sword into 
my heart and thus saved me from dishonor; and I should 
not thus have been tortured with the memories of that day 
of wrath and shame.” 

Isabel, in uttering these words, could not check the gath- 
ering tears in her eyes — they rolled down her cheeks; and 
some moments elapsed ere she resumed. Malcolm held his 
breath. 

“The chief of these Buccaneers who captured us, was 
certainly the most extraordinary and the most original char- 
acter I ever met with. His manners were, of the educated 
and accomphshed gentleman. His attentions to me were of 
that delicate character which can only be acquired by long 
contact with the highest society. Overcome at length by 
his respectful manner, but more particularly by the care he 
took of my Avounded father, I consented to reply to his 

words, and then . Have I not promised you a full 

confession without addition or subtraction ? Why should 
I not utter it ? My imagination was vehemently exercised 
in the singular and extraordinary case of this man. He was 
a myth. I am a woman. He monopolized my thoughts. 
V/hat more shall I tell you ? This wretch, with all the 
beauty and the craft of Satan, found means without trans- 
gressing the bounds of the most loyal respect to aA’^ow his love 
for me. This man — as my confessor afterwards told me — was 
an invention of the Devil to fascinate, tempt and bewilder a 


158 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


noble daughter of Catholic Spain. He gave me to under- 
stand that he was the heir of a noble house, but that family 
troubles were the cause of his false position as a pirate; 
but that the holy passion and honorable love he felt for me 
had opened his eyes to the infamy of his position. He bit- 
terly deplored the evil deeds he had committed, and declared 
that he intended to use all the energies of soul and body to 
redeem the errors of misspent youth. Then he painted in 
such glowing colors, the bright future which, through me, 
awaited him, that I felt proud of the convert which I had 
made — so flattering to my self-love.” 

“ From that to a confession of love,” said Malcolm, again 
transgressing, “ there was but one step.” 

“ You are too cruel,” said Isabel, looking down and color- 
ing; “but your severity is too well justified by my own un- 
pai’donable conduct. That confession I did make.” 

“ How, and under what circumstances, and with what re- 
sult ?” exclaimed Malcolm, as pale as death, trembling like 
an aspen. 

“ The day preceding that when the Buccaneers generously, 
I must admit, landed us on Spanish soil without ransom,” 
continued Isabel, “ my Santanic lover approached me. His 
vo;ce, his agitation — too well acted — attested his sincerity, 
or rather the appearance of it. ^ Lady,’ said he, ‘ if ever the 
Buccaneer whom you have snatched like a burning brand 
from the jaws of hell, should return to you bearing the 
name of one of the most illustrious houses in Europe, 
would you shrink from the accomplishment of the noble 
work you have begun ? Would you thrust him back into 
the abyss?’ ‘No, never,’ I rephed. ‘Oh, then you are my 
guardian angel, the angel of my salvation,’ said he; and then, 
in a transport of gratitude for which I was not prepared, 
took my hand and reverently and passionately kissed it. I 
did not withdraw my hand — and then — and then, he pro- 
posed that I should marry him on the deck of the ‘ Concep- 
tion ’ according to the rites of our church — with the condi- 


THE DISCLOSURE, 


159 


tion tliat I should remain a virgin-bride with my father, un- 
til one year elapsed, when he would come for me. He had 
a bishop on board, and the rite was performed. The next 
day, the ‘Conception’ now the j)rize of the Buccaneers, 
landed us at a village on the north coast of San Domingo. 
While I was following v/ith my tear-dimmed eyes the lessen- 
ing hull and receding sails of the ship, my maid put into my 
hands a letter written to me, by my — husband, if I may 
call him such — which she was enjoined not to deliver until 
he was out of sight. I had the weakness to tear open this 
letter with all the eagerness of a girl receiving her first love 
letter. The contents — a just chastisement for my folly — are 
eternally written on my memory. It ran thus : — 

“‘Dear Girl : I am more proud of my conquest of you, 
a noble and haughty daughter of Spain, than of all my vic- 
tories over your countrymen. If I have felt for all other 
women the scorn of disgust and satiety I have been quite in 
love with you. You are sharp, smart, saucy and witty. 
When they abuse us. Buccaneers, in your presence, I hope 
3"ou will defend us. We value our reputation for gallantry 
above all earthly things. Don’t scold me, dear, because I 
did not use the privilege of a husband, and let you go a vir- 
gin. You would have biased me in twenty-four hours. As 
it is, I shall always feel a piquant interest in you, which me 
would dissipate in a moment. Adieu — au rewir,' ” 

From the manner and tone with which she repeated the 
text and emphasized the words of this cruel and insulting 
letter, Sir Ismail readily understood how much the sensi- 
bilities and womanly pride of the haughty beauty had been 
wounded. Nevertheless he could but feel the liveliest sense 
of joy. 

Did not the remorse of Isabel prove with what exquisite 
sensibility she was endowed? Had she not in mercy as an 
angel of salvation, under peculiar circumstances, given a 
hope of an honorable future to this outlaw, whom she be- 
lieved she was called upon to save from perdition, to restore 
a noble name to its ancestral honors ? 


160 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


Tlieso reflections were broken by the words of Isabel, re- 
suming the thread of her narrative. 

Now you understand, Sir Ismail,” said she, “ why I can 
neither give or receive honorable love.” 

“No — a thousand times, no,” exclaimed he with vehe- 
mence. “ A man must be as unjust as he is cruel and stupid 
to blame you under such circumstances. You have been 
simply the dupe of your extreme sensibility, that is all. 
That mountain of the past which weighs so heavily upon 
your present is but an atom after all. What does it ^niount 
to when weighed and analyzed ? A verbal promise to a man 
whom you wiU never see again, Avho dares not come within 
the pale of Christian law; a mock marriage under durance, 
and that unconsummated, with a man who has been 
outlawed by princes and rulers, with a price set on his head 
and anathematized by the church. Permit me to observe, 
that you seem to take pleasure in exaggerating the import- 
ance of an insult v?hich, at its worst, is but the sting of an 
insect and should be ignored as such.” 

“Sir,” said Isabel, “the words you have just uttered 
prove to me, what a low opinion you have of me, and what 
little respect you have for yourself. What ! would you — a 
gentleman — would you be willing to give your unblemished 
name to a woman who has openly avowed herself the wife 
of another?” 

“But, lady, ” 

“When that man still lives?” continued slje, stopping hi? ^ 
words by an imperious gesture. “ When that man can come 
from day to day and hurl the word dishonor in your teeth ! 
Ah, sir, my father was right in his contempt of English 
chivalry. As to me — no more interruption — I who have 
been educated with different ideas and principles than those 
of your land, I have sworn that so long as that Buccaneer 
shall be of this, world — so long as that man shall exist on 
earth before whom I must blush with shame — I will never 
consent to receive any other man’s love and I will bear my 
crown of shame alone.” 


THE DISCLOSURE. 


161 


These words, uttered with all the impassioned eloquence 
of a haughty and beautiful wonaan of the tropics, sank deep- 
ly' into the heart of Malcolm. 

“ You are just, lady,” said he, after a moment of silence. 
“ The joy of having learnt that the bamer which separates 
us is not insurmountable, and that the error of which you 
so nobly accuse yourself, has not attained that extent my 
despair dreaded — all that bhnded me to the gravity of the 
insult you have received. I glorify and I thank you for call- 
ing me to a proper sense of honor. You are right, very right. 
The wife of a gentleman should never hang her head before 
the scornful glance of any living man. It must be so. Not 
that you may be avenged exactly — the conduct of that Buc- 
caneer can never sully your fair name — but that you be be- 
yond the liability of insult from any quarter whatever. To 
this end I have but one request to make — what is the name 
of the wretch who stands between you and your happi- 
ness?” 

Isabel, instead of replying, remained pensive and silent. 

“ Lady,” continued Malcolm, “ why is it that you, avIio did 
not shrink from the avowal of what you call the one error 
of your life, now appear to hesitate and weigh the conse- 
quences of uttering that name ? Does your heart, at the 
moment when your lips should utter a death warrant, feel 
an unworthy pity, or an unpardonable v/eakness ; or do you 
doubt my words, or my courage ? ” 

“ I could never question that courage to which I owe the 
hfe of my father and myself,” replied Isabel. “ But I have 
not the same faith in your perseverance, which I have had 
no means of appreciating ; and then — ^why should I conceal 
it ? — I hesitate to accept the aid of your arm, for there are 
acts of devotion which impose such a load of gratitude upon 
its beneficiaries, that generous spmits must hesitate before 
they can accept of them.' 

“ Must I repeat here, lady,” replied Sir Ismail, “ what I 
told you at Hampton House— that as the slave of ybur wM— 


162 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


I could find my happiness in my obedience. Once more the 
name of that man I entreat you ? ” 

“ But that man, sir,” replied Isabel, “ is separated from 
you by two thousand leagues of the great ocean. Would 
you cross the high seas to seek him ? ” 

“ I would, lady,” fiercely and joromptly replied Sir Ismail. 

“ Sir, you have a grand and noble heart ! ” exclaimed Isa- 
bel, with an emotion she had never before dis]3layed in his 
presence. “ The more I reflect upon our providential meet- 
ing at cape Henry, the more I am convinced that God sent 
you to me.” 

These words, uttered with all the fervor of a prayer, 
kindled in the heart of Malcolm a joy as deep as his pre- 
vious despair had been startling to behold. 

“ Sir,” continued Isabel, “ your reply has put all my 
skepticism to flight. I must initiate you in my projects, so 
that nothing be concealed from you. As the secret which 
I must reveal to you is not mine, I must extract from you a 
solemn oath, never to reveal or betray it.” 

“ My word of a gentleman is the most solemn oath that I 
can utter, lady,” said Sir Ismail, solemnly. By the honor 
of my name, by the salvation of my soul, I swear to you that 
should it cost me my life, not one word of that secret will 
ever pass my lips.” 

“ I thank you, sir,” said Isabel. I can now speak with- 
out fear.” 

After a slight pause, she continued, “Do you remember 
certain ambiguous and mysterious words I uttered to you at 
Hampton House on the subject of your future ? ” 

“ Perfectly well,” said Malcolm. “ You said that you are 
cognizant of a project, the success of which would render 
me the equal in wealth and rank of the highest and noblest 
in the land.” 

“ The same,” said Isabel. “ I will now make it known to 
you. I ask your patient attention.” 


THE BRIBE. 


163 


CHAPTER XYIII. 

THE BRIBE. 

The command was useless on the part of Isabel. Mal- 
colm bowed acquiescence and put himself in an attitude of 
profound attention. 

‘‘ Sir, it would be difficult,” continued Isabel, “ indeed, I 
may say impossible, for you to calculate the destruction 
which the Buccaneers of the West Indies inflict upon the com- 
merce ot Spain. The settlement of these terrible and enter- 
prising freebooters who nullify in so fatal a manner the 
power of Spain on those seas, is besides a most grevious and 
fatal wound to Castihan pride. Not only do these fearless 
pirates insult at will the flag of Spain, but even an unex- 
ampled success crowns their audacity. Every hour, every day 
their power increases in an inverse ratio to our humihation. 
The efforts, the sacrifices, made by our government have 
been immense. Those efforts result in nothing but a lavish 
and useless expenditure of noble blood and treasure.” 

“ I am at a loss to conceive,” said Malcolm, in interrup- 
tion, “ how a first-class power lihe Spain could be baffled by 
a mere handful of freebooters, without resources but plun- 
der, and consequently a mere undisciplined mob of raiders. 
Often have I pondered upon this singular and inexplicable 
fact.” 

“ You are under a great delusion,” said Isabel. “ The Buc- 
caneers are not as men generally suppose, and as you falsely 
imagine, a mere band of robbers, held together by the co- 
hesive attraction of plunder; on the contrary, their power 
has been acquired by a perfect organization, discipline and 
fanatical obedience, which halts at no impediment, to the 
will of a mysterious chief, whose authority is absolute and 


164 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


autocratic. . The government has learned this much; but 
the unanswered and unanswerable question is, ‘who is 
this chief — what is that organization?’ In vain have the 
Buccaneer prisoners who have fallen into our hands, been 
put to the most cruel and fearful tortures. Whether these 
wretches themselves were not initiated into the secret of 
their pohtical existence, if I may use that term, or whether 
they found in their fiery enthusiasm a power superior to 
that of the rack, not one word of that mystic tie did any of 
them reveal. They died on the rack, uttering with their last 
breath a shout of defiance and blasphemy.” 

“How much it is to be regretted,” said Malcolm, with 
involuntary admiration, “that such spirits have entered upon 
a highway of crime. What grand destinies could be accom- 
plished with them. But pardon my interruption;' I can- 
not account for the lively interest you seem to feel in the 
destruction of the Buccaneers.” 

“ That, sir,” rephed Isabel, “ is the very secret I am about 
to confide to you. My father, the count of Monterey, whom 
the unstinted confidence and friendship of our unfortunate 
Maria Louisa had rendered an object of suspicion to the 
partisans of the league of Augsberg, v/as obliged after the 
death of that excellent princess, to retire from the court of 
Spain. Since that time, he has been governor of Cartha- 
gena, and consul-general of the Spanish West Indies. He 
has profited by this position to study with passionate zeal 
the history, the actions, and the organization of that unique 
class of pirates. He has acquired a knowledge of their man- 
ners and customs, their naval tactics, and their haunts, and 
he has come to the thorough conviction that if he could but 
possess the secret tie, the open sesame of their pohtical or- 
ganization, he could before one year rolls around, inflict 
upon that satanic power such an act of terrible justice as 
history affords no parallel. My father, on his return to the 
court of Spain, a few months ago, secured from his majesty, 
Charles II. of Spain, to whom he made known his plans and 


THE BRIBE. 


165 


projects, a secret mission with full powers to effect them. 
In pursuit of this mission, we were visiting the Atlantic 
ports when we met with you, and to insure the success of 
this mission he is to seek the aid of the king of England.” 

“ Do you flatter yourself, lady,” said Malcolm, “ tha.t his 
majesty, William III., will cooperate with his Catholic 
majesty of Spain, in this matter? The Buccaneers are, as I 
well know, accursed of God and man, but their depredations 
on Spanish commerce, are diversions in favor of Enghsh 
supremacy on the seas. I must be permitted to doubt if 
William III., would at this time, at least, when the Enghsh 
revolution is far from being consummated, commit what 
politicians call a blunder, and I cannot think that the count 
will obtain any aid from England in this case at this time, of 
which you are so sanguine.” 

“ Of the aid of William III.,” said Isabel, with a smile, 
“ my father feels perfectly secure. The count of Monterey 
holds in his hands means, I will not say to enlist the sym- 
pathy, but which will appeal very powerfully to the interest of 
the king of England. Means, which I feel morally certain, 
will make that phlegmatic Netherlander bend like a reed, 
grandson of William the silent, though he be. You know 
that the tory protestant party of England have always 
claimed James, duke of Monmouth, as the true heir and suc- 
cessor of Charles II., on the throne of England. They con- 
tend that the marriage of Charles, his father, with Lucy 
Walters, at the Hague, was legal. Whether it is so or not, 
one thing is certain, that English parliaments have legiti- 
matized bastard princes. But for Monmouth’s ill-timed rebel- 
hon in 1685, his defeat at Sedgemoor, and his execution on 
Tower Hill, he, not Calvanistic William of Orange, would 
have driven James II. from the throne of his father. Well, 
the duke of Monmouth’s marriage with Henrietta Went- 
worth is just as legal as that of Charles, his father, with Lucy 
Walters. The duke of Monmouth had a daughter, and she 
was sent out of England for safe keeping. The ship was 


166 


THE BUCCANEERS 


taken by the Buccaneers. They changed the girl’s desti- 
' nation and keepers. She was an infant then and brought 
up in ignorance of her birth and parentage. For political 
reasons the Buccaneers have her where she can be produced, 
with all the proofs of her identity, whenever political com- 
plications or exigencies require it. This fact is one of the 
acquisitions of my father’s transatlantic j)ilgrimage. But to 
return, what we require is neither money, soldiers or allies; 
but to learn the mystic tie, the cabala which unites the 
Buccaneers to one another, which constitutes their invinc- 
ible power, and our eternal shame and disgrace.” 

“ But, lady,” said Sir Ismail, who, however entertaining 
the conversation so far might have been, was more anxious 
to bring it to the focus of his own love, than to discuss po- 
litical questions, “ but, lady,” reiterated he, “ I cahnot con- 
ceive how all these things concern me.” 

“ I will come to you directly,” said she pettislily and, as 
Sir Ismail thought, with too much emphasis upon youN 

‘‘ I have told you,” continued she, “ that my father is in- 
vested by the Idng of Spain with unlimited powers in this 
matter. Can you not understand the tenor and import of 
these words ? — the count of Monterey has the power to con- 
fer whatever rank, grade or dignity he thinks proper — the 
commission of general, a patent of nobility, a pension of 
one hundi-ed thousand Johannes, a half a million of your 
English money. Bo you now understand ?” 

“ Perfectly, lady, cnly I do not see how all that concerns 
me,” replied Sir Ismail. 

“ What, you do not understand ! ” exclaimed Isabel, in a 
tone in which it was difficult to tell v/hether scorn or aston- 
ishment predominated. “ You, an English gentleman,” she 
continued, ‘‘of a noble family, under the ban-political, with 
your brilliant personal qualities — how easy to win the conh- 
dence of the Buccaneers, to render yourself master of their 
secrets. To secure them thoroughly you could take part in 
their expeditions, become one of them. Your sense of honor 


THE BRIBE. 267 

would be a little blunted by this companionsliip, but the re- 
flection that a star of nobility, a princely revenue and 

All these I say ought to sustain you in that ordeal.” 

Isabel uttered these words with an animation characteris- 
tic of Southern girls, who feel what they say, but in propor- 
tion as her impassioned face brighted with enthusiasm, that 
of Sir Ismail Malcolm darkened with sadness and gloom. 

“ Lady,” said he, after a silence of some moments, which 
seemed to be a struggle against the fascination of an enchan- 
tress, “ I feel a humihation which I cannot conceal, a con- 
viction that you must have had up to this time a very low 
opinion of me.” 

“I — I — Sir Ismail — what mean you?” exclaimed Isabel, 
with mingled indignation and astonishment. 

“Lady, I say,” replied Sir Ismail, “that, although the 
Buccaneers are the most accursed of pirates who have cursed 
the earth with crime, the man who would give them the 
right hand of fellowship, eat their bread, share their dan- 
gers, their toils, their pleas'-res, in order that some day, at 
his leisure and with impunity, he might sell them, though 
it be into the hands of public justice— that man would be 
in the eyes of all honorable men, infamous as a spy and 
traitor. Though his treason might pave his way through 
life with gold, though his breast should be covered with the 
decorations of titled nobility, he would stiU be infamous. 
As for me, poor, ruined, under the ban-political, as you 
say, I would refuse to cross my sword with his. Though he 
were a grandee of Spain, with millions for a revenue, I 
would reply to his words v/ith silent contempt, to his inso- 
lence with a cane.” 

A long silence followed these words. Isabel, for the first 
time in his presence, wilted like a scorched rose-leaf. She 
was crushed. Seeing this, he continued with all the gentle- 
ness in his power, “I have wounded you no doubt, but par- 
don me, I entreat you. Why have you thus demanded of 
me the sacrifice of my love ?” 


168 


THE BUGCANEERS. 


I — demand — the sacrifice of your love ! ” said Isabel, as 
though she doubted the evidence of her ears. “ On the con- 
trary, have I not, in opening the way to the goal of noble 
ambition, struck down, with my own hand, the obstacle 
which you deemed insurmountable to our union ?” 

“ Lady,” said Sir Ismail, gravely shaking his head with 
an air of bitter chagrin, “you demand the sacrifice of 
my love when you ask me to become a spy. No, I see it all 
now, you never felt for me sympathy or affection. The wo- 
man who loves is ever jealous of the honor of him she 
loves.” 

“ I can assure you, sir,” said Isabel with emotion, “ that I 
do not attach the same idea as you do, to the role you re- 
fuse. I truly and honestly believe that circumvention and de- 
lusion is justifiable when it is employed in the service of 
Christianity. More particularly to crush piracy and to sweep 
human monsters of ferocity from the face of the earth. But 
I appreciate your scruples, and I will add, they increase the 
esteem I have for you.” 

Isabel was silent for some seconds, and then, smiling upon 
Sir Ismail with all that naive and infantile sweetness pecu- 
liar to Spanish girls, which they use with such fascinating 
success, to the sublime of coquetry, said, “Now, sir, we 
have reached the terminus of a long journey, without much 
fatigue to either party.” 

“ Not yet, lady,” rephed he, gravely. “ It does follow that 
because I refuse to make myself a party to the pohtical pro- 
jects of the count of Monterey, that I cancel my parole with 
you. Far from it. I have sworn to deliver you from the 
power of a wretch whose existence debars you from happi- 
ness and honor, and I trust that God, and the justice of my 
cause will aid me to fulfill that vow. Permit me, then, to 
ask a second time, the name of that man whom you have out- 
lawed.” 

^‘JSIot yet ,” replied Isabel, after some moments’ reflection. 
“ I desire you to see that man on the theatre of his opera-- 


THE BRIDE, 


169 


tions, the most daring among the most reckless of his com- 
peers. It will he theUf when you have learned how 
formidable and terrible he is, that I will reveal his name, 
and then only. If you persist hi offering me your aid, I 
will accept it. Until that hour, you are released from the 
obligations of your vow. It is now getting late and I must 
leave you. Your arm, sir.” 

"When Isabel arose to leave. Sir Ismah found that of all 
the things he had conned over in his mind to tell her, he had 
not uttered one syllable. This confused and bewildered 
him. He was the more desirous that Isabel should not 
leave him, imder a false impression. 

“ One word more, I entreat you,” exclaimed he, retaining 
her hand. “ I have refused, and I shall ever refuse to play 
the part of a traitor or a spy. But I have not refused to aid 
the count of Monterey in a just cause. The Buccaneers 
belong to aU nations. To single out one of them in a pri- 
vate quarrel is not to bear arms against my king. If the 
count wiU receive my services in that capacity, I will do my- 
self the honor and the pleasure to shed my blood in a cause 
so just.” 

“ No, sir,” replied Isabel, that is out of the question. 
You have just accused me of being regardless of your honor. 
That charge has Avounded me to the quick. I will never 
consent that my knight, my champion, shall enter the lists 
as a hr am. I thank you, and am grateful.” Then taking 
his arm, they left the cafe Cabral and entered upon the 
street. 

Scarcely had they proceeded twenty paces, before they 
met the’ same party, who had been so insulting and imper- 
tinent to Isabel two hours ago. They had now dined, and 
were flushed and emboldened by Hquor. 

“ Hello ! ” cried the one, who called himself marquis of 
Barrillon, “ here, felloAvs, here is luck. Here is our fair 
unknown again, Avith her gallant. Now for fun.” 

“ Sir,” said Sir Ismail, to him, ‘‘ it would be very uni^leasant 


170 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


for me to pass my sword through the body of a man in the 
presence of a lady, but I shall be obliged to do so if you 
j)ersist in this impertinence. If you will be so kind as to 
wait five minutes while I can dispose of this lady, I will 
return here and afford you all the /im you desire on that line.’" 

“That will suit me exactly,” replied Barrillon, saluting 
Sir Ismail with a low bow. “ Your conversation is charm- 
ing. You have quite the air of a game-cock. Make our 
excuses to madam, and don’t hurry her. "We will wait 
until morning for such agreeable company.” 

“ What foUy,” whispered Isabel, in his ear, loud enough 
to be heard by the whole party, “to expose your life for 
the impertinence of such a puppy.” 

By the word “puppy,” Barrillon recognized the speaker. 
He had heard the same from the same lips before, in refer- 
ence to himself in a conversation with her father, which he 
had contrived to overhear. 

“Many thanks to you, for the interest you feel in my life,” 
said Sir Ismail to Isabel, as he assisted her into a carriage, 
which she had left in waiting at the corner of the street, two 
squares from the cafe Cabral; “but fear nothing for me. I 
confide in my star.” 

“ I hope so,” replied Isabel. “ I will send to your lodg-' 
ings in the morning to learn the news. Till then, adieu; au 
revoir.” 

The carriage rolled away. Sir Ismail, too happy to think 
that Isabel felt an interest in his life, stood gazing at the 
carriage until it was out of sight. 

“ Now for my adversary, if I may call him such,” said he, 
turning and going in the direction where he had left the 
party, who appeared to be so eager to cross swords with him. 
On arriving there he found none but an officer of police, 
and, on enquiry, was told that so soon as he had left, a stout, 
square-built man rushed upon Barrillon and party with his 
cudgel, broke their swords and put them to flight. 

“ Jalman has been dogging me,” muttered Sir Ismail, and 
went to his lodgings. 


THE ARREST. 


171 


CHAPTEE XIX. 

THE ARREST. 

Sir Ismail, upon entering his chamber at the “ Golden 
Knight ” was surprised to find his servant, Jalman, whom he 
had made the hero of the street fight in which the four 
“ bloods ” were disarmed and put to fight, in a sound sleep 
on the fioor. 

Jalman, upon being awoke, denied the championship and 
solemnly protested that he had never left* the inn after his 
master went out. 

‘‘ It must have been Abdallah Legoffe,” said Sir Ismail. 

“Master, that man is the Devil in disguise,” said Jalrian ; 
“ and I will tell you why. One of the sailors of the Dona 
Maria told me that when the ship left Havana for Saint 
Augustine, on the last outward bound trip, that man came 
on board of her and put a mark with red chalk on her mam- 
sail; and that ever since every suspicious craft keeps out of 
her way; and I verily believe that he .” 

The words of Jalman were interrupted by a knock at the 
door, and Sir Ismail mechanically uttered, “ Come in.” 

The door opened and Abdallah Legoffe appeared, in a 
court dress of black velvet and sword. 

You here !” said Sir Ismail, with surprise. 

“Why not ?” said the visitor. “ You told me to come in — 
and here I am.” 

“ I was not complainmg,” said Sir Ismail, “ but only won- 
dering what accident brought you here.” 

“ Much obhged,” rejoined Abdallah; “but it is not acci- 
dent, as you suppose, that brings me here, but a matter of 
business with you, and you alone.” 

Upon this Jalman withdrew, muttering as he went out, 
“ Two more wax candles.” 


172 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


“And now to lousiness,” said Sir Ismail. “But first and 
foremost, I must know who and what you are. I pre- 
sume that you will allow that your transparent mask of 
‘horse drover’ cannot deceive me.” 

“ That is good,” said AbdaUah Legoffe with a roar of 
laughter. “ I see that your man Jalman has blackened me 
in your eyes. What will you have me to be — a wandering 
prince travelling in disguise ? Alas ! my dear, sir. I trade 
in horses, gold, men and women. I am in aU markets. As 
a proof of it I come to buy that draft you have upon the 
house of Argillac & Co.” 

The face of the horse trader, as he called himself, beamed 
with such a jolly, good humor, and he uttered these words 
with such congenial frankness, that Malcolm’s stiff back was 
bent in a twinkling. Not wishing that his visitor should re- 
mark his too sudden change of base he continued, “The 
singular gallantry you displayed in your exertions to save 
the ship on the rocks of cape Henry, and then your very 
abrupt departure at Hampton House, flatly contradict the 
character you have assumed.” 

“ I will consent to take a beating if I comprehend you,” 
said Abdallah, with another chime of laughter. “ The proper 
reply to the argument, plausible as it is, is by another inter- 
rogatory — why should not a horse trader feel sympathy for 
the crew of a wreck, and courage enough to give practical 
expression to his sympathy ? I said to myself, as that gen- 
tleman risks his precious life in giving assistance to poor 
sailors in distress, what prevents me from following his good 
example and running the same risk ? So I went. As to my 
abrupt conge, though we traders are not very ceremonious, 
we know the value of time. I had elsewhere to go and 
other matters to attend to, and I left without boring you 
any longer — ^that is all.” 

^‘Why, then, upon your arrival at the cape,” resumed 
Malcolm “ did you tamper with my servant and give him 
two shillings?” 


THE AHREST. 


173 


“ I souglit information from jour servant and gave him 
two shillings for value received. It meant business. I 
wished to put him in my interest. People of my profession 
must sow before they can reap.” 

“ What was that business? ” said Sir Ismail. 

‘‘ To make a bargain — the same that brings me here now.’’ 
said Abdallah. “ Only I will observe in advance, that if you 
entertain the idea that you can profit by what I have just 
told you, it is a delusion. I know now what I was ignorant 
of at the cape — that you are in want of money. The game is 
one at which two can play. And now, ” he added after a 
pause, “ here is the matter in a word. The house of Argillac 
& Co. have, upon a brother trader of mine, a dead draft 
as bankers caU it — a debt of honor as you call it. As you 
have a similar claim upon them, my friend wishes to buy 
yours to checkmate, or rather retahate in kind. What will 
you take for it?” 

“ That draft is not for sale; it is worth what it bears on 
its face, or nothing,” said Sir Ismail, fiercely, and at the 
time rising from his seat as if to close the conference and 
the visit. 

But the trader did not choose to take this very broad hint. 
He kept his seat. Steady, steady, master Malcolm,” rephed 
he. “ I will deal frankly and generously with you. My friend 
has commissioned me to get the draft at any prwe. We can 
make a good thing of it between us. Guineas are not picked 
up here in the streets, Spanish grandiloquence to the contrary 
notwithstanding. None but the stupidly proud, or stupidly 
foolish refuse good bargains. Besides, I must leave here 
to-morrow for Leogane, in a slave clipper ready to sail at 
sunrise.” 

“ You leave for Leogane to-morrow ? ” reechoed Sir Ismail 
with a brightened face and altered mien. “ Can I go with 
you?” 

“With pleasure, sir,” said Abdallah. 

“ Sir, you are destined to make me feel ashamed of my- 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


174 

self,” said Sir Ismail, overjoyed at this unexpected deliver- 
ance from quarantine. The thought of receiving money 
from his servant was galling to him ; and a week’s detention 
at Havana would have drained his purse to the bottom. 
“You can have the draft for the value on its face — one 
thousand guineas.” 

“ One thousand guineas indeed ! ” said Abdallah. “Master 
Malcolm, my profession is to get things as far below their 
value as possible, but I cannot take, in this case, advantage 
of your innocence ; though I damage my reputation as a 
trader by so doing. My friend has given me a premium of 
one thousand guineas. Take nineteen hundred and ninety — 
that will leave ten for commission — a fair margin. This is 
your only chance for a fair bargain. Yes or no ? ” 

“ I accept it,” said Sir Ismail. 

“ Here it is, master,” said Abdallah. Taking a broad sack- 
like belt from under his coat he opened it and counted out 
the gold pieces until they lay upon the table in one large 
ghttering pile, and received in return the draft on the house 
of Argillac & Co. 

This was the largest pile of gold Sir Ismail had ever seen 
at one time. He could not forbear from calling J alman out 
from his sleeping room to gaze upon it. 

Jalman came, quizically eyeing the pile with a broad grin of 
childish delight, taking up several pieces together, some in 
each hand, weighed and balanced them. “ Master,” said he, 
“ they say that the Hevd has cloven feet. I would like to 
see everbody in this room barefooted.” 

Sir Ismail felt annoyed at this impertinence ; but Ab- 
dallah Legoffe, on the contrary, exploded in a guffaw of 
laughter. 

This mirth met with a sudden interruption. There was 
now heard in the corridor leading to the room, the regular 
tramp of many feet, the clanking of sabres, the jingling of 
spurs. It was followed by a loud knocking at the door, 
which Abdallah had bolted upon entering, and a voice in an 


THE ARREST. I75 

authoritatiye tone commanded, “ Open, in tiie name of the 
king.” 

Malcolm, Legoffe and Jalman gazed at each other in si- 
lence. 

“ Treachery,” thought Malcolm. 

“ Vengeance,” thought Legoffe. 

“ Plunder,” thought Jalman. 

“ Sir Ismail,” said Legoffe in a whisper, “ order Jalman to 
secure the money and hide himself in your sleeping-room, 
and be as still as death.” 

Jalman obeyed the order by sweeping off the gold with 
his arm into the skirt of his shirt, which he had improvised 
into a cut de sac, and ghded into the sleeping-room. 

The knock was repeated with such force as to threaten 
the destruction of the door, and the command uttered in a 
more stentorian tone, “ Open, in the name of the king.” 

Legoffe drew back the bolt and opened the door. An of- 
ficer with a squad of dismounted pohce presented them- 
selves. 

“ You are welcome, sir,” said Legoffe saluting the officer 
with a low bow, “ since you announce yourself in the name 
of his majesty. What are the king’s orders?” 

“Your sword and your company, sir,” repHed the officer. 

“ W^ill you be so kind as to exhibit the order under which 
you act,” repHed Legoffe; “otherwise I shall be under the 
disagreeable necessity of breaking your head.” 

The officer, without appearing to be disconcerted at this 
threat, presented two orders — one for the arrest of Abdallah 
Legoffe, sometimes called Baron Legoffe, and the other for 
the arrest of Ismail Malcolm, sometimes called Sir Ismail 
Malcolm. 

“ AU correct, sir,” replied Legoffe, returning the warrants 
and unclasping his sword belt. Here is my sword. It is 
a court sword, purchased this morning, and has never been 
drawn. Had it been my service sword I would not have 
given it up. Here are my pistols. I yield imphcitly to* the 


176 


THE BUCCANEERS, 


orders of tlie king, even when those orders have been ob- 
tained by falsehood.” 

Malcolm followed the example of Legoffe, whose self-pos- 
session and coolness convinced him of the necessity of tak- 
ing his cne from one who seemed au fait to the exigencies of 
the case. 

“Now, sir,” said Legoffe, “ wiU you permit my friend and 
myself to take some articles of personal use ?” 

“ Certainly, sir;” replied the officer, “my orders say noth- 
ing against it.” 

Legoffe and Malcolm went into the sleeping-room of the 
latter. The officer followed them. 

“ Do not be uneasy, sir,” said Legoffe to the officer. “Our 
submission contemplates no possibility of escape. You will 
perceive that this room presents no facilities for it, having 
but one narrow window opening into the court. That court, 
as you know, is occupied by your force.” 

Legoffe, in addressing himself to the officer had spoil en in 
Spanish, but now he turned to Malcolm and spoke in Eng- 
lish. “ Sir Ismail, so far you have performed excellently! 
Utter not one word. It is necessary that Jalman should hear 
every word. On his memory depends our salvation.” 

Legoffe then pretended to overhaul Malcolm’s baggage, 
as if it was his ov/n; and then, as if struck by a sudden 
idea! he turned to the officer. “ Sir,” said he, with a pleas- 
ant smile, “your air convinces me that you are a gentleman, 
and as all gentlemen sympathize with each other in their af- 
flictions, can you not tell me what are your orders concern-' 
ing my friend and myself ?” 

“ Not to permit either of you to communicate by word or 
writing with any others,” replied the officer. 

“Do you accompany us to our destination?” said Legoffe. 

“ Yes, baron, to your destination,” replied the officer. 

“ Believe me, sir,” said Legoffe, that if anything would 
soften the rigor of our situation, it is the fact that we shall 
have the pleasure and honor of your company. Permit me 
to ask you a question ?” 


THE ARBEST. 


177 


“ Certainly, baron,” replied tbe officer; charmed with the 
courtly manners of Legoffe, who had been represented to 
him as a ruffian. 

“ You have been charged to take my sword but not the 
aigrette of diamonds attached to the hilt. "Well, permit me 
to present you with that aigrette as a souvenir of my grati- 
tude for your delicacy and kindness to us in the discharge 
of your disagreeable duty.” 

While the officer was hesitating for a rej)ly, Legoffe de- 
tached the aigrette and presented it to him. 

“ But, baron,” said the officer, hesitating, and stammering. 
The conduct of the baron, as he called his prisoner, puzzled 
him. “ But — ah — ^baron — this looks like a bribe. I do not 
think ” 

“ That aigrette,” continued Legoffe, cutting short his 
words, “ is worth to a trader twenty thousand crowns ; but 
to you, a gentleman born, who would simply keep it as a 
souvenir, a mere exchange of courtesies — you would not 
surely refuse my trifling present when we have shown such 
perfect submission to orders. Should not courtesies be 
mutual ? Did I not give up my pistols before you demanded 
them?” 

The officer chosen by the captain-general of Cuba for the 
arrest of Legoffe and Malcolm in the name of his Catholic 
majesty, the king of Spain, was a determined, resolute man 
in the discharge of his duty, of but httle dehcacy or sensi- 
bility ; and him Legoffe read at a glance. His instructions 
did not preclude him from accepting a present, the value of 
which to hi m was enormous. Neither did he know how to 
accept or refuse it with grace. The magical words, “ twenty 
thousand crowns,” annihilated his scruples — if he had any. 

“ I think, sir,” continued Legoffe, without giving him 
time to utter any thanks, which he was struggling to do 
with an awkward and abaslied air, “ I think, sir, that your 
instructions will permit you to inform us what is our desti° 
nation?” 


178 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


“ But, baron,” said the officer. 

“ Excuse me, sir,” said Legoffe, interrupting bim again. 
“ Since it is understood that we are to communicate with 
none — either by word or letter — which order we give our 
parole not to infringe — it certainly inconveniences no one 
to learn our destination. You must remember that Cuba 
has three climates — the tierra callida of the coast, the tierra 
templada of the table lands, the tierra frigida of the CordiUera; 
consequently our wardrobe must accord with the chmate of 
our temporary abode.” 

“ Ah ! ” you are right,” replied the officer with a smile of 
relief and glad of an excuse. He was afraid that a refusal 
on his part would exasperate the baron — produce a htiga- 
tion which would compromise the possession of that bijou- 
terie of twenty thousand crowns which, to him, only a cap- 
tain in rank, was a fortune. “Your observation is 
correct,” continued he, “ my orders are to take you to fort 
St. Philip, at cape San Antonio, which you know is the west- 
ern terminus of the Island. It may be called the buttress 
of the Cordilleras, with the fort above and the sea below.” 

The Cordillera spoken of here is a mountain chain run- 
ning east and west through the long diamater of the island^ 
terminating on the west in a promontory called cape San 
Antonio, whose rocky scarp rises like a dead wall a thous- 
and feet above the level of the sea. 

“ A thousand thanks for your information,” said Legoffe. 
“Knowing our destination, we can arrange our wardrobe 
accordingly. The climate of Havana and that of cape San 
Antonio are very different in degree.” 

Then turning to Malcolm in a nonchalant air he spoke, 
apparently to him in Enghsh — “Jalman, pay attention — 
lose not a word I say — thereon depends our safety. When 
we are gone, take all your master’s money, go to Senor Ar- 
giUac, tell him what has happened. Say nothing to any one 
else. Await his instructions — obey his orders.” Legoffe, 
while speaking thus, pretended to be overhauling the clothes 
he wished to select. 


THE ARREST. 


179 


Malcolm, taking the cue from Legoffe, added, “Jalman, 
in the name of your patron saint, obey the instructions you 
have received. Spare no expense or labor. Act promptlv. 
Good-bye.” 

Malcolm and Legoffe^ having by this time made up their 
bundle of clothes, told the officer that they were ready to 
go with him. 

A close carriage, guarded by a squad of the gen- 
darmerie, awaited them at the door of the inn. The three 
entered it, and then the carriage and its escort set off at full 
speed, and soon left the city of Havana behind them. 

When the officer with his prisoners left the room, Jalman 
crept out from under the bed where he was hidden. “ Ah, 
my good Saint Patrick,” he ejaculated, “grant that I may 
have the good fortune to save my master.” Then, with 
eyes full of tears, he began putting into his money belt the 
gold pieces he had so hurriedly carried away in the skirt of 
his shirt. However sincere his grief, a bright smile passed 
over his face when he packed away the last piece and coded 
the belt around his person. 

Shortly after Isabel Sandoval alighted from her carriage 
at the palace gate, after leaving Malcolm, the marquis of 
BarriUon had an interview with her father, the count of Mon- 
terey, and told him what had passed in the street and in the 
cafe Cabral. 

A few moments more, the count of Monterey demanded 
of the captain-general of Cuba, in the name of the king, 
the arrest of AbdaUah Legoffe, sometimes called Baron Le- 
goffe, and Ismail Malcolm, sometimes called Sir Ismail Mal- 
colm, for high treason and piracy on the high seas, and their 
committal to fort St. Philip, and that the marquis of Bar- 
rillon be put in command of that fortress; and it was 
granted without a word or a question. 

At the same time the prisoners left the inn, Barrillon left 
the palace of the captain-general to take possession of his 
command. 


180 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


CHAPTER XX. 

FORT SAINT PHILIP. 

At sunset of the third day, after their arrest, the prisoners 
and their escort reached the gloomy military prison which, 
perched upon the beetling brow of the promintory of cape 
San Antonio, overlooked a vast expanse of the ocean, whose 
waves were dashed with the sound of rolling thunder in moun- 
tain-like biUows at its feet. The road was a zigzag ascent 
untn they reached the plane of the summit of the Cordillera, 
and no incident worthy of remark broke the monotony of 
this long and toilsome journey. 

Legoffe ever exhibited a blitheness and merriment, which 
charmed and amused the officer, while Malcolm, wrapt in 
the solitude of his gloomy reflections, never uttered a word. 
The beauty, the grandeur, the sublimity of the scenery 
through which they passed, were beheld with a vacant hst- 
less eye, while his heart was thrilling with passion for Isa- 
bel, and his brain racked and perplexed with doubts and 
misgivings. 

By whom and for what was he arrested? Was his con- 
versation with Isabel at the cafe Cabral overheard ; or did 
she betray him herself, and was he committed to this gloomy 
fortress to keep the state secrets she had revealed ? Then, 
who and what was his fellow captive ? Was he a prisoner in 
reality or only a spy, a decoy, whose arrest was only a fic- 
tion to complete the delusion and ensure his doom ? These 
insoluble problems determined him not only to keep guard 
upon his captors, but to write on the tablets of his memory 
every w^ord uttered in his presence. 

“ Truly, baron,” said the officer when about to take leave 
of him, ' “ I cannot deny myself the pleasure of expressing 
joy and astonishmet at the very agreeable surprise my 


FORT SAINT PHILIP. 


181 


acquaintance with you haKS given me. You were represented 
to me as a brute and a ruffian, but on the contrary, you are 
a perfect gentleman and the most agreeable companion I 
have ever met with. Believe me, my dear baron, I shall 
always remember this incident with pleasure, and shall be 
happy to hear of your speedy release.” 

“ When a man has enemies he must expect to be calum- 
niated,” replied Legoffe. “What you have just told me, 
proves how basely I have been misrepresented. I do not 
know a man in this wide world more good-natured or harm- 
less than myself. I carry my love of peace and quietness to 
such an extent, that I am sometimes called a coward. The 
commandant of that fort will have no difficulty in keeping 
me.” 

“ Be assured, sir,” replied the officer, “ that I shall make 
a very favorable report of you to the captain-general 
from facts coming under my own observation. As to your 
young and taciturn companion. Sir Ismail Malcolm, he is a 
very different person. There is something in his eyes .” 

“ All, captain,” interrupted Legoffe, “ you entirely mis- 
understand my friend. One word will explain the enigma. 
He is in love. Now you must know that a lover, violently 
and suddenly separated from his betrothed, cannot be very 
gay. He fancies himself aheady supplanted by his rivals, 
and deserted by his lady love.” 

“ That will happen, sometimes,” said the officer with a 
laugh. 

'^Always, captain,” replied Legoffe; “ a hunchback lyresent 
, — as long as women are women — will be more fascinating 
than an absent Apollo. But there is one sweet antidote 
for suffering humanity, and that is obhvion.” 

“ Poor fellow,” said the officer, glancing at Malcolm, who 
sat like a statue of silence at one end of the apartment 
where the conversation took place. “Poor fellow,” con- 
tinued he ; “ since he is in such distressing circumstances, I 
will ihake a more favorable report in his case.” 


182 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


“ Thank you,” said Legoffe, clasping the extended hand 
of the officer, “ my friend there deserves your kindness, and 
really such a specimen of manly beauty should not be jilted 
for a hunchback.” 

This caused another titilation of laughter in the officer, 
and then bowing to Legoffe, he took his leave. 

Malcolm heard and attentively noted every word of this con- 
versation, which produced a corresponding train of reflec- 
tions. When the word hunchback was uttered, he then remem- 
bered that one of the men who accosted Isabel near the cafe 
Cabral, was a thin, delicate man, with a curved spine — 
which could be called a hunchback — with a protruding under- 
jaw 'which gave his physiognomy some faint resemblance to 
that of a monkey, and that he called himself the marquis of 
Barriilon. 

His reflections were brougnt to an abrupt termination, by 
the entrance of the jailor, who politely invited his prisoners 
to foUowhim. 

Two minutes later, Malcolm and Legoffe, after mounting 
a very steep flight of narrow stone steps, found them- 
selves in a large cell sufficiently weU furnished for a prison. 

The jailor, after depositing their baggage, locked them in 
and went away. 

After his foot-steps ceased to reecho along the vaulted 
corridor which led to the cell, the prisoners gazed at each 
other in silence. 

“WeU, comrade,” said Legoffe, at length, “what do you 
thinlc of this little adventime ?” 

“I think,” said Malcolm, “that we have mounted ninety- 
four steps to get to our ceU, and consequently, after making 
all due aUowance for the inclination of the stairway, that 
the grated window of our apartment cannot be more than 
eighty feet perpendicular above the soU.’’ 

“Comrade,” rephed Legoffe, clasping the hand of his 
companion in captivity, “your reply delights me intensely. 
It reveals resolution, foresight. Only you have made a 


FORT SAINT PHILIP. 183 

slight mistake in counting, by one step. There are ninety- 
five.” 

“Did you count them also?!’ rephed Malcolm, surprised. 
“There seems to have been a coinciding duality in our 
thoughts. The coincidence is auspicious.” 

“Bah!” rephed Legoffe. “Do you think that the eagle, 
pining behind the iron-bars of its cage, ever renounces the 
hope of again traversing space ? There are now but two 
passions in my heart. Sympathy for you and vengeance 
against my enemy. And I say it before you, I wiU sacri- 
fice both to recover my liberty. Without liberty there is 
nothing beautiful on earth. Without liberty, to natures like 
yours and mine, life itself is one long purgatory. Without 
hberty, man is but a brute, whose abject grovelhng spirit 
God chastises, by suffering him to live and die inglorious.” 

Malcolm felt an electric thrill pervade his frame at the in- 
spired tone — the lofty and burnmg enthusiasm— with which 
Legoffe uttered these words. 

“ Legoffe,” exclaimed he, “ a man who speaks thus cannot 
long be the tenant of a dungeon. Order and I will obey. 
We shall soon be free.” 

“ I know it,” coolly replied Legoffe. “ How poor human 
pride is mocked, and how frail the calculations of earthly 
wisdom. It only sufficed for an emasculated courtier to 
cross my path, to derange and to demoralize my vast pro- 
jects — the work of years — blood and tears. To think that 
I am the inmate of a dungeon like this; an oubliette for the 
living to enter and die unknelled and unknown. At a time 
like this when my liberty was so indispensable to the glorious 
work of empire. To think that I am in the power of dark, 
gloomy, inquisitorial Spain. Spain, that expelled the Jews 
for their industry; exterminated the Moors for their litera- 
ture; tortured heretics for their faith and burnt the Incas 
for their gold. Spain that sent Columbus back on his track 
with iron gyves upon his hands.” 

Then came the sound of distant footsteps and Legoffe 
was silent. 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


184 

Those footsteps came nearer and nearer. They stopped 
at the door of the cell. A key grated in the lock, the door 
opened, and the jailor presented himself. 

“ Gentlemen,” said that functionary, taking from a wicker 
basket, and placing on a table, several dishes covered with 
a clean white napkin, “ I will send directly to you by one of 
my assistants a hamper of wine. If your bill of fare does 
not suit you to-day, point out the deficiency and it will be 
amended. I have orders from the governor to make you as 
comfortable as we can.” 

Legofie made no reply. When the jailor went out, he 
turned to Malcolm and said, “We must always mistrust the 
civilities of an enemy, who has us in his power. If I do not 
deceive myself, I wiU play a sure game. Let us dine.” 


CHAPTER XXI. 

AN ACCOMMODATING JAILOK. 

One month, one entire month, passed without any change, 
in the routine of prison life of the captives. 

During that age— for all know that the hours of cap- 
tivity drag their slow and tedious length, with all the pro- 
longed agonies of an age of suffering. Legoffe was ever 
the same, serene and composed. Malcolm, tortured by jeal- 
ousy, chafing under impatience, arose every morning, pro- 
posing some new plan of escape, which had occured to him 
during a sleepless night. 

Legoffe listened to the plan patiently, and then coolly 
said : “ Sir Ismail, your plan of to-day is no better than that 
of yesterday.” 

Malcolm could not fathom this apparent indifference, 
and he accused his companion in misfortune of lax energy 
and imbecility. 


AK ACC03{M0DATim JAILOB. 


185 


Legoffe always refuted these charges with a smile. 

On the thirty-second day of their captivity, the jailor, after 
dismissing the assistants, who brought in the prisoners’ din- 
ner, remained with them. 

“ Baron,” said he, to Legoffe, “I have learned that you are 
very rich and free with your money. If I could rely on you, 
I could possibly do you a great favor.” 

“What favor, my friend,’’ said Legoffe. 

“I could put into your hands a letter, which I have 
received for you — from your lady, perhaps.” 

“ Ah, you have received a letter for me ? ” said Legoffe, 
with mocking indifference. “ Well, my friend, you ought 
to carry it to the commandant immediately. That would 
win his confidence, and secure your promotion.” 

“ Ah, indeed,” said the jailor, taken all aback, “ I did not 
expect that reply, from you. In fact, the idea is a good one. 
I will carry it to the marquis of Barrillon at once.” 

“ Go, my good fellow, you will make a good thing of it,” 
said Legoffe. 

The jailor, evidently disappointed, went to the door, but 
instead of opening it, he appeared to reflect and then 
returned. 

“It would not do,” said he, “to take it to the commander 
now. He would demand of me why I kept it so long from 
him. And instead of being rewarded, I should be pun- 
ished.” 

“ You have had it then, a long time,” said Legoffe. 

- “ Ever since yesterday evening,” said the jailor. 

“ You did very wrong to neglect your duty so long, my 
friend,” said Legoffe, with a pitying smile. 

“WeU, to be candid with you,” said the jailor, “I calcu- 
lated upon your generosity.” 

“Then it is owing to your kindness for me,” said Legoffe, 
“that you have lost so fair a chance of promoting your own 
interest ? In that case, j^ou do deserve something from me- 
Here are ten gold pieces for you.” 


186 


TEE BUCCANEERS. 


“ Here is the letter,” said the jailor, pocketing the gold 
pieces. “ So soon as you have read it, you must destroy, or 
what is better, burn it.” 

No matter, my friend,” replied Legoffe, “ I will not read 
the letter. Take it and destroy it yourself. For no earthly 
consideration would I compromise you. You have been too 
kind to us.” 

“ Then, baron, I must return your money,” said the jailor, 
with evident chagTin. 

“ Ah, you are right,” replied Legoffe, “ you can accept pay 
for services rendered, but your pride revolts against receiv- 
ing alms. Give me the letter.” 

Legoffe broke open the letter, and holding it in the 
palm of his hand, glanced over its contents. Then shrug- 
ging his shoulders with a very significant air of disdain, tore 
it to pieces. 

“It does not appear to please you, baron,” said the jailor, 
measuring him with his eye. 

“My mistress,” said Legoffe, with a scornful curl of his 
lip, “ has been over zealous, in precautions and mystery, to 
write to me in cypher, that she is still faithful. A valuable 
piece of information, to be sure. The next time you are 
solicited to bring a letter to me, refuse. I cannot be 
bothered with such nonsense,” 

“Very well, baron, I will certainly refuse,” said the jailor, 
going out with an awkward and disappomted air. 

“ Sir Ismail,” said Legoffe, after the door had been closed 
and locked on the outside, and the footsteps of the depart- 
ing jailor had died away in the distance, “Jalman is a 
brave lad. He is in communication with Argfilac. A ship 
is waiting for us off cape San Antonio. Now to work. 
Before five days we shall be either free or dead.” 

At these words from his fellow captive. Sir Ismail could 
not restrain a shout of joy. 

“Now I understand your apparent indifference, which 
hitherto appeared so unaccountable,” said he. “ You have 
been waiting for that letter.” . 


ACCOMMODATING JAILOR. 


187 


“ Yes, Sir Ismail, I have been waiting for it,” said Legof^e, 
‘‘ although every moment as it passed, wrung my heart with 
agony. I willed to be calm, to keep you from despair. 
Now we have intelhgence from without — a refuge in case of 
escape. I will share your enthusiasm and aid your labors.” 

“ First and foremost, a question,” said Malcolm. “ Why, 
were you not one minute ago, so careless and indifferent 
about reading a letter, containing such valuable information 
to us?” 

“ I wished to solve a doubt and confirm a suspicion,” said 
Legoffe. “For sometime I have remarked the affected and 
studied civility of our jailor. That man, the moment he 
crosses the threshold of our cell, assumes an attitude, puts 
on a mask. In a word he awkwardly plays a part he has illy 
studied. I know not what his precise intentions are, but I 
know he has evil designs. Observe how his roving and rest- 
less eyes shrink from meeting ours. His agitated nerves, 
his affected air, when he answers your questions. I he- 
liemd, now I know, that he and his employers had an inter- 
est in making me read that letter. But what the shape of 
that interest is, I do not know.” 

“ What interest did you say ?” said Malcolm. “ Why the 
interest of ten guineas — a hundred dollars in Spanish 
money!” 

“ I do not believe it,” said Legoffe. “A jailor would not 
for so little run the risk of losing his place, and the terrible 
punishment of being broken on the wheel, for aiding state 
prisoners to escape. It is treason and parricide under the 
laws of Spain. There is a mystery in the matter which puz- 
zles me, which I Avill unravel. But now you are forewarned. 
Note well the looks and acts of our guardian when he re- 
turns. I will endeavor to fathom him.” 

The two companions in captivity then began to make a 
minute examination of their cell. The examination was not 
discouraging. The cell was a groined arch of massive stone 
blocks, with a narrow grated window just below the ceiling. 


188 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


about twelve feet above the floor, for the purpose of light 
and ventilation. 

Legolfe, after a moment’s reflection, was about to speak, 
when the jailor entered, the first time at that hour. 

“ Baron,” said he, after a stage j^ause and in a dramatic 
attitude, “the world thinks that jailors have bowels of stone 
and hearts of brass, but I will prove to you that I am an 
exception to this rule. I come in the name of my poor sick 
wife to thank 3^ou kindly for those ten pieces of gold. That 
money has been a very seasonable relief to her. She has 
charged me to tell you, that she will ever regard you as her 
benefactor, and remember you in her prayers.” 

“ Your wife attaches too much importance to so small a 
sum,” replied Legofle» 

“ One hundred dollars for poor people like us, who have 
four children, which my salary will barely feed, is a Godsend, 
baron,” said the jailor. 

“ Why did you not advise me of your straitened circum- 
stances before,” said Legoffe; “it would have given me 
jfleasure to assist you.” 

“ Ah, you must know, my dear baron,” said the jailor, 
with affected empressement, “ poor as I am, I have pride ; 
and since his majesty, the king suffers me and my familiy to 
starve, so much the worse for his service. I only wait for a 
fair opportunity to sell him. But I cannot receive — alms.” 

“ Do you know, my friend,” said Legoffe, “ that what you 
have uttered is treason and parricide under the laws of 
Spain ? ” 

“I speak what I think, baron,” said the jailor, with a 
resigned air of martyrdom. 

“ Do you not see. Sir Ismail,” said Legoffe turning to his 
companion in captivity, “ that it is our liberty he offers us.” 

“ Yes,” exclaimed the jailor, with vehemence, “ your liberty ! 
The hunger which drives a famished dog to the sheep fold, 
renders an honest man deaf to the voice of duty and a 
traitor to his king. Now baron, with my hand on my heart, 
I shall be happy to be able to prove my gratitude.” 


AN ACCOMMODATING JAILOR. 


189 

The heart of Malcolm beat with violence. He was about 
to speak when Legoffe with a glance prevented him. 

“ My friend,” said he to the jailor, “ I thank you kindly 
for your good intentions, and I must tell you frankly and 
honestly, that I am not so rich as you suppose, and that it is 
very probable that I cannot raise the amount necessary for 
the puipose.” 

“ But, baron, I have not named any amount,” replied the 
jailor. 

“ That is true, my friend,” said Legoffe, “ but as our 
escape -will cause you to lose your place, you must look well 
to yourself. I say again that I am not able to meet and 
satisfy your most just expectations. As dear as my liberty 
is to me, I must decline your offers.” ~ 

“ But, baron,” rephed the jailor, with the sturdy air of a 
man who would take no denial in rendering an act of kind- 
ness to another, “ your escai^e through that window would 
prove nothing against me. I am a jailor, not a guard. 
What sum have you at your disposal ? ” 

“ I am ashamed to confess it, my friend,” replied he, “ but 
forty guineas Enghsh — four hundred dollars Sx)anish — would 
strain my treasury to the utmost.” 

“Four hundred dollars,” exclaimed the jailor, with an 
exultant air, “ why that is a clever little fortune to me.” 

“ You think so ? Then, will you consent for that sum, to 
aid our escape ? ” enquired Legoffe. 

“ Certainly, sir,” said the jailor. “ That sum is more than 
I get in so many years. Yes, a thousand times yes. To 
seal the bargain, here is a file which I brought in antici- 
pation that'we could agree upon terms. Now go to work 
from this day without delay.” 

Legoffe examined the file. It was of the best steel and 
temper. 

“ Now, I must leave you gentlemen,” continued the jailor, 
“ my absence might be remarked if I prolonged it. As soon 
as night comes, begin to saw the bars. "Work cautiously; 


190 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


there is a sentry on the pavement below your window.” 

‘‘What do you think of all that, Sir Ismail?” said Legoffe, 
when they were alone.” 

“I think that our jailor is too accommodating y' replied Sir 
Ismail. “ Your suspicions are confirmed. It is self-evident 
that the jailor is only playing a part. What line of conduct 
must we pursue ?” 

“ Let us cut the iron bars of our window first, and if we 
only get a little more air and sunshine, the labor will not 
have been thrown away.” 

Malcolm placed the table against the wall, and mounting 
upon it offered his shoulders to Legoffe, saying, “ Begin.” 

Legoffe, with the agility of a tiger, was at his post and at 
work. 

The next morning, when the jailor brought their break- 
fast, the iron bars were so nearly incised that but little time 
or labor were requisite to complete the work. The sentry 
below had apparently heard no noise. If he did, he turned a 
deaf ear to it and never interfered. 

“ My friend,” said Legoffe to the accommodating turnkey, 
“ you appear to be such an excellent, kind-hearted man, that 
I cannot find it in my conscience to deceive you. Yesterday 
when elated with the hope of gaining our liberty, I promised 
you forty guineas, but on counting the contents of both 
our purses, we find that we have only twenty guineas be- 
tween us.” 

“ Twenty — guineas !” reechoed the jailor. 

“Not a farthing more,” replied Legoffe. “You see we 
have not the means, and must give up the idea.” 

“Never ; your delicacy moves me to tears,” exclaimed the 
jailor vehemently drawing the palm of his hand over his 
eyes. “ It shall never be said of me, that I am your inferior 
in generosity, as I am in birth and station. After aU, twenty 
guineas, is a fortune for me.” 

“Will you consent for that sum then to aid us?” said 
Legoffe. 


AN ACCOMMODATING JAILOR 191 

“"Behold my reply,” said the jailor uncovering a basket, 
and displaying a rope ladder. 

“ Ah, what a line piece of rigging,” exclaimed Legoffe, 
overhauhng the rope ladder. “ How well wove — how firm 
and solid it feels.” 

“ That rope will support the weight of ten ordinary men,” 
rephed the jailor. “ There is no danger of its breaking. It 
is just long enough to land you on the pavement below 
without touching it. Did you work any last night.” 

“We filed upon the bars all night,” replied Legoffe, “but 
they are of excellent metal and the fear of arousing the 
sentry j^re vented us from finishing the work. We will do 
so to-night. 

“Courage, gentlemen,” said the jailor, “I will see that 
you are not molested or suspected.” 

“Well, Sir Ismail,” said Legoffe with a mocking smile, 
after the jailor withdrew, “what a sensible, kind-hearted, 
accommodating jailor that is. He is more anxious for our 
escape than we ourselves.’ 

“ The fact is, baron,” said Malcolm, “ all that is very re- 
markable. You are right, a thousand times right. That 
man thinks that he is overreaching us.” 

“ And is setting a trap for us,” interpolated Legoffe. 

“ Yes, but what kind of a trap f said Malcolm. 

“Ah ! that is the question,” replied Legoffe, “ what we shall 
be lucky to find out before it is too late. We must bide our 
time.” 

“ But baron,” said Malcolm, “ another circumstance aston- 
ishes me. It is that senor Argillac, instead of losing so much 
time in having a vessel laying off the cape, should not have 
sought the captain-general, himself. As much influence as 
he appears to have in Havana, I should think that he could 
at least have your case investigated, if not obtain your re- 
lease.” 

“Argillac knows too well how Sj^anish pov/er rewards 
services rendered,” said Legoffe. “He suspects that the 


192 


THE BUCGANEERS. 


captain-general is not the responsible author of my arrest. 
He believes that my death, and that as secret as possible, is 
ordained by a higher power. That the thunder which falls 
upon my head, is wielded by the hand of Jupiter himself. 
I have loaned money for the cause of James 11. of England, 
and it is deposited in the treasury of Spain. Who knows 
but what Catholic Charles of Spain may have taken it into 
his head, that the same maritime power which crushed the 
invincible armada of Philip II., might clear the Spanish 
seas of Buccaneers, and has made an ally of Calvanistic Wil- 
liam of Orange ; and then with the baseness and meanness 
of cowardice, has sacrificed me, to steal my gold. No, be- 
lieve Argillac is right in trusting to himself and our- 
selves alone. To none but ourselves must we owe our free- 
dom.” 

The next day the jailor came earher than usual. 

“ I was uneasy,” said he to Legoffe; “ was the sentinel quiet, 
and have you cut the bars ?” 

“ Yes, my friend the bars are cut,” said Legoffe. 

“ And when for the attempt,” said the jailor eagerly, “ This ' 
evening ?” 

“ At no time,” replied Legoffe, coolly. Confiding in the 
justice of the king, we have concluded not to make any at- 
tempt at escape.” 

“That is impossible,” exclaimed the jailor, with visible 
anger ' and mortification. “ Let me teU you, gentlemen, 
though it be at the peril of my life, that the known innocence 
of a prisoner is his death warrant here. None but the guilty 
ever have trial or investigation here. The innocent die here. 

I have under my charge gray-haired men who were commit- 
ted when they were young, and who do not know why 
they were arrested to this day. Port Saint Philip is the 
tomb of the innocent. It is only the purgatory of the guilty. 
You are numbered but not named on the prison register. 
Say no more about the justice of the king ; it is a lame excuse. 

I am certain that another idea has changed your purposes.” 


AN A CCOMMODA TING JA IL OR. 1 (53 

“ Well, my friend,” said Legoffe, “ I confess it is another 
idea.” 

“ Wliat is it ?” eagerly inquired the jailor. 

“ It is very obvious, and we owe it to you,” said Legoffe. 

“ To me ! I do not understand you ! Explain if you please, 
baron,” said the jailor. 

“ Nothing easier,” said Legoffe. “ Have you not enjoined 
upon us at two different times, yesterday and the day be- 
fore, to work quietly so as not to attract the attention of the 
sentinel, whose beat as you say is below our window? 
Well, that sentinel to whom we attached but little import- 
ance then, has now become a very formidable obstacle. 
However enchanting the prospect of our liberty may have 
been, the certainty of receiving a musket ball at the foot of 
the ladder, has thrown a damper over the charm, and we 
have resolved that so long as that sentinel is a visible fact or 
possible contingency, not to make the attempt.” 

“ If that is aU, gentlemen, make yourselves easy. I am 
not so base, or so stupid, as to expose you to that danger. 
I had arranged to have that sentry removed, when I could 
learn from you the exact hour of your attempt. Hence my 
inquiries in the matter.” 

That is all very weU, my friend,‘'so far as it goes,” said 
Legoffe; “ but it might haj)pen that the commandant might 
smell a rat and insist upon the sentry remaining where he 
is. Prudence is the parent of safety, and it is absolutely 
necessary that I and my comrade should have a pair of 
pistols each, a suj^ply of ammunition and a jooignard apiece. 
That would alter the case, and we should set out at once.” 

“ I will get them for you,” said the jailor; and then after 
a pause, added, “ I wih get them right away,” and then went 
out. 

“ Well done for you,” said Legoffe, with a roar of laughter, 
when the retreating footsteps of the jailor ceased to resound 
through the vaulted corridor. “Was there ever a jailor so 
anxious to get rid of his boarders ? What zeal, ah, what 


194 


THE BUCCAEEEBS. 


energy, lie displays for our liberty ! Decidedly, it is not 
one, but two snares set for our feet. After all, what does it 
import to us ? Once armed, we sliall get rid of our doubts, 
at least.” 

“We will do or die,” replied Malcolm. 

Scarcely had these words been uttered when the jailor’s 
approach was heard. 

“ Here are the arms, gentlemen,” said he, as he opened 
the door. “ Two pair of pistols, with ammunition, and two 
poignards. That is all you wanted, and now to-morrow.” 

‘^To-morrow” repeated Legoffe. 

“When the jailor went out, the prisoners hastened to ex- 
examine the weapons left on the table, and to inspect them 
with a minute and critical- eye. “They are excellent 
weapons. The locks and springs are perfect. Steel barrels, 
no melted lead in the vent. All clear,” said Legoffe, after 
trying the locks and blowing through the vent. “This 
poignard is a magTiificent blade — real Damascus — good hilt 
— fits the hand. Now let us try the temper.” 

With this, Legoffe put a guinea on the table, struck the cen- 
tre of it with the point of the blade, which passed through 
the coin, and entered an inch into the oak table. 

Malcolm tried the sahie experiment with his and obtained 
the same results. 

“ Fore God,” said Legoffe, laughing, “ our turnkey is the 
most generous and princely jailor I ever heard of. For 
twenty guineas, he gives us our liberty and arms worth 
twice the sum in the bargain. Oh, I forgot to try the pow- 
der.” Legoffe primed a pistol and fired the powder. It 
flashed without making an audible noise, or leaving a stain. 
“ Why the powder is better, if possible, than the weapons. 
It is of the fir^t quality; cost a penny a grain. Now, my 
dear fellow, how well this suits us. To-morrow night we 
will give battle. It may be a little rough, but I have passed 
through many such, and here I am.” 

“ Have you any idea, now,” said Malcolm, “ of the snare 


THE SNAItE. 195 

they have set for us and by which they intend that we shall 
be seen no more on earth ? ” 

“I have an idea of the general plan, but not the details; 
and that idea proves to me at least, that the king of Spain 
is not a party to our incarceration. Sandoval, count of 
Monterey, and that puppy, Barrillon, are the authors of it.- 
You must know, that Sandoval has accepted Barrillon as a 
suitor to his daughter, after a year’s probation. One of his 
party followed you and the lady to her carriage on the 
eventful night at the cafe Cabral. Then when the lady 
was identified, that was your death warrant. The whole 
party intended to set upon you and dispatch you the mo- 
ment you came back to them, and to make sure of you they 
kept you in sight. I marred the plot. Our deaths, secret 
and silent, is absolutely necessary, each for different reasons, 
to Spanish pride and Spanish vengeance. But they fear 
my death at their hands' more than my release. The snare 
set for us is an ambuscade of soldiers, who are to be put on 
our track. But it is useless to talk of them. We must con- 
template the certainty of putting them to flight. Two lions 
need not fear a pack of curs.” 


CHAPTER XXIL 

THE SNARE. 

It was six o’clock in the afternoon of August 18, 1689, at 
fort St. Philip. 

The atmosphere was lowering and charged with electrici- 
ty. The sky was darkened by masses of black clouds like 
floating mountains. 

Legoffe and Malcolm, seated at a table with the remnants 
of their dinner before them, were engaged in an earnest 
conversation. 


196 


THE BUCCANEERS, 


“ So far all goes well,” said Legolfe. “One hour more, we 
will effect our escape or die.” 

“ Yes, to the minute,” replied Malcolm. “ Our arms are 
in order — the jailor has given us a very plain chart of the 
route — the bars are removed and we are ready.” 

Legoffe, after a few moments of reflection, continued, 
“ My young friend, I have unshaken confidence in my star. 
I feel morally certain that our enterprise will be successful. 
Nevertheless, I may deceive myself. The designs of God 
are inscrutable. A pebble may make a giant stumble in his 
path. I must now tell you what I intended to do, when you 
reached your destination in the Antilles. I must tell you who 
I am. If I am stricken down by death, you may be more 
fortunate and escape. It is necessary that you know the 
name of one who has so far shared your fortunes in cap- 
tivity. Sir Ismail Malcolm,” added Legoffe, after a pause, 
rising from his seat, “embrace the brother of your father — 
your uncle ! 'lam Ronald 3falcolm, of 3Iontbars ! ” 

Malcolm was so overcome by this unexpected revelation 
that he could only stammer out,. “ AYhat ! are you my uncle 
Ronald, whom I have so long believed to be dead ?” 

“ Yes, child, I am your father’s brother. Embrace me.” 

Montbars, as we shall hereafter call him, was as much agi- 
tated as his nephew, when he uttered these words. He 
clasped him in his arms and strained him to his heart. 

“ How much you resemble your father. Sir Donald Mal- 
colm, Ismail. He was a cadet on the staff of Ismail Pasha. 
Hence your name Ismail,” said Montbars, gazing tenderly 
upon the features of his nephew. “ Poor brother, how much 
I loved him.” 

Two large tears, like drops of rain, rolled down the 
bronzed cheeks of Montbars. 

“Now, boy,” said he, gaily, as if ashamed of the weakness 
he had exliibited, “ you know now who I am. You must 
have a million of questions to ask and a thousand explana- 
tions to demand. Sit down and listen to me.” 


THE SNARE. 


197 


Montbars collected himself for a moment, while his nephew 
gazed upon him in silent amazement, and then continued, 
“ In the first place, .Ismail, I must request, if necessary 
enjoin upon you, to jealously keep the secret I confide to 
you. For the world, even for yourself, I am not Ronald 
Malcolm, but Montbars, the Buccaneer of the Antilles.” 

“ Oh, my uncle !” said Ismail, recovering a little from his 
stupefaction. “ Why have you left me in ignorance until 
this hour, that there* was one being on earth who cared for 
me!” 

“ It was necessary, boy,” replied Montbars. “ A man must 
be the child of his own work. Nothing develops a charac- 
ter by nature noble, so well as isolation, self-reliance, self- 
dependance. It was necessary that you should be your own 
architect. I must tell you, that to avenge your father, I re- 
quire a brave heart and strong arm. I have found both in 
my brother’s child. Had I found you unworthy this sacred 
mission, I never would have made myself knovm to you. I 
would have contented myself in supplying you with money 
from invisible sources, and by indirect means, but never 
would my hand have clasped yours.” 

‘‘ My poor father I He requires my arm — my hfe, my soul — 
for vengeance, does he, my uncle ?” said Malcolm. 

“ Sir Ismail Malcolm, I call myself Montbars^'' replied the 
Buccaneer sternly, and then resumed in a more gentle tone. 
“ Yes, your poor father was assassinated, I may truly say, 
by a monster in human shape. Attend to my words : 
After the great rebellion of 1642, which caused so much 
noble blood of Scotland to flow in the field, and on the 
scaffold, your father and myself were exiled. Our estates 
were confiscated, partitioned and sold. We were too deeply 
compromised in the cause of the Stuarts, to hope for grace 
from Cromwell or his successors. The restoration of the 
house of Stuart was distant, prospective, and problematical, 
and if a reality we had but little hope of recovering those 
ancestral acres, beggared, as we should have been, by long 


198 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


years of alienation. Your father was one of those proud, 
stubborn men, who, though conquered by a stronger power, 
but feeling the justice and righteousness of his cause, pre- 
ferred to submit his head to the axe rather than cringe to the 
usurper. I had great difficulty in persuading him to flee 
his native land. It was not until I represented to him the 
services he might render in the new world, and the very 
attractive features of the plantation conditions of the lords 
proprietary of Maiyland, that he consented to do so. A 
ship was about to sail for Saint Mary’s, the capital of Mary- 
land, and we took passage in her. Our voyage was nearly 
accomplished, the new world was in sight. We steered on 
the southern parallel. As we were passing through the 
Florida channel, a Spanish frigate captured us. We could 
show no passports, and we were carried to the Island of 
Cuba and sold as slaves to the planters.” 

“Poor father*!” sobbed Ismail. 

Montbars continued: “ Then began a life of misery to 
us — of which you can form no conception whatever. Our 
native inborn pride, I will add, sustained us in this terrible 
ordeal. In our abject position, we preserved our dignity as 
gentlemen born. Our determination to submit to no out- 
rage was so plainly indicated in our faces that the overseer, 
who had charge of us, did not dare to inflict the savage bru- 
tality he so unsparing lavished on our companions in mis- 
fortune. For one year we groaned in this bitter captivity. 
My brother and I formed a plan of escape. We were on 
the eve of succeeding, when an untoward event happened. 
The wife of our master, a Spanish grandee of the first class, 
was the most beautiful, and at the same time the most wicked 
woman that ever lived. She had a liason with one of her 
husband’s secretaries. The guilty pair were surprised one 
night at an assignation. She managed to contrive the es- 
cape of her lover; and to protect him she accused your 
father of having induced her to go to the suspected place by 
a plausible falsehood. Her husband was as proud as Luci- 


THE SNARE. 


199 


fer and as pitiless as Moloch. He knew that his wife lied, 
but he affected to believe her to conceal his own dishonor. 
Your father was instantly seized and brought before our 
master. When he was about to prove his innocence, he 
was gagged. Then I threw myself on my knees before 
my master — do you hear — on my knees,'’ hissed Montbars 
through lips white with rage. “ Then I was gagged. When 
I have more time I wiU give you aU the details of this affair, 
but now I can only recite the main facts of the crime you 
are called upon to avenge. An example, a sacrifice, was 
necessary to conceal the shame of his wife and his own dishon- 
or. That Sj)anish nobleman, though perfectly convinced of 
your father’s innocence, determined to sacrifice him. He was 
condemned to be stripped and scourged like a slave, and then 
to kneel before this vile woman, and acknowledge the just- 
ness of the sentence. If he should prove recusant, the con- 
fession of guilt was to be wrung from him on the rack.” 

‘‘My father!” exclaimed Malcolm, with an expression of 
rage and agony which bordered on delirium, “ my father, 
did you say, was sentenced to the lash as a slave — to the 
rack as a recusant felon ? Horrible — impossible ! ” 

“ The sentence was recorded and instantly executed,” con- 
tinued Montbars, with a forced composure frightful to be- 
hold. ‘Your father. Sir Donald Malcolm, in whose veins 
flowed the blood of Scottish kings, was stripped, bound and 
scourged, with the twisted thongs of bullock hide, which 
peeled the flesh from his back. In this terrible ordeal he 
uttered not a cry of agony. His executioner, a burly ath- 
letic negro, quailed and hung down his head before the eye 
of his victim ; and then when he was unbound, he was 
Ordered to kneel and acknowledge his guilt. He protested 
his innocence, gave the woman the lie, and flung the word 
“ cuckold ” in the nobleman’s teeth. He .was then stretched 
upon the rack, and when the screws were about to be 
turned which would have wrenched his limbs from their 
sockets and rendered him a cripple for life, he thought of ven- 


200 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


geance and uttered the words required of him. We after- 
wards escaped to Leogane, in the French Antilles. We be- 
came Buccaneers — were initiated into the “ United Breth- 
ren of the Seas.” In the course of time your father there 
met and married your mother, Anne Cameron, of Lechiel, 
the daughter of another Scotch refugee, and then after a 
lapse of ten years sailed for Saint Mary’s in Maryland again. 
He had become wealthy. Charles II. was then on the 
throne of England. The chmate of the Antilles did not 
agree with your mother, and your father wished to avail 
himself of the favorable conditions which lord Baltimore 
held out to the emigrants to his colony. You were born on 
the passage. Your mother died. The ship was wrecked on 
cape Henry. Your father saved you and died of a broken 
heart.” 

Big tears rolled down the bronzed cheeks of the Bucca- 
neer, while the nephew wept in silent agony. Montbars 
continued, “ I remained in the Antilles and became a French 
subject. Your father promised me to return to aid me in 
carrying out vengeance when he had settled his wife and 
family in security at Saint Mary’s. Some years elapsed be- 
fore I could learn his fate, and where you were. I regarded 
this as auspicious to your future destiny. I have now 
gathered you to my bosom.” 

“ My uncle,” exclaimed the young man, after some mo- 
ments of silence, “ the name of that assassin — his name, I en- 
treat you ! Note I know that we shall escape. I ham a charm 
against lead and steel. I ham a father to amnge and God wiU 
aid me. The name of that assassin ? His name, I implore you.” 

Montbars hesitated. ‘‘ The moment has not yet arrived 
when I can reveal it,” said he. After some dehberation, 
“When we are on the eve of leaving, I will put into your 
hands a sealed packet containing all the information neces- 
sary to you and for vengeance. If I am killed, what I do 
not anticipate, you will open that letter. But if not, you 
wiU return it to me.” 


THE SHARE. 


201 


“ Let it be so, I will obey,” said Malcolm. 

“ I have but a few more words to add,” continued Mont- 
bars. “ King James II. has acknowledged us a, power. "We 
have loaned him money. You are his subject and he has 
given you a secret mission to the American colonies, your 
headquarters at Saint Mary’s in Maryland, under the name 
of Lochiel Cameron, the tenor and import of which is duly 
explained in the papers of that packet. But we, Montbars, 
have another secret mission for you at the same place, which 
is to he written yet. If king James fail, as I believe and fear he 
will, with such a set of time servers, political renegades and 
apostates around him, then we have another candidate for 
the throne of England, in a daughter of James, duke of 
Monmouth, now eighteen years of age. She is the ward or 
foster child of Solomon Lumbrozo, a Jew, at Saint Mary’s — 
a partner of the house of Argillac & Co. at Havana. Look 
to her, be guided by circumstances, without betraying your 
trust, until the proper time comes.” 

The hours fleeted by in conversation between the uncle 
and nephew. The one speaking of his brother and the 
other of his father. At last the great bell of the chapel of 
fort Saint Philip chimed the hour of midnight, the num- 
bered hory' of flight, 

“ Ismail,” said Montbars, “ embrace me and God be with 
us. We must go.” 

Montbars placing two stools, one on the other, and both 
on the table, mounted them and tied one end of the rope 
ladder to the stumps of the iron bars, which were buried 
deep in the masonry. 

“ Now, nephew,” said he, “ let us kneel and ask help of 
God.” 

The prisoners knelt, and after having prayed some sec- 
onds, arose and mounted to the window. 

Stay, Ismail,” said Montbars seizing his nephew by the 
arm, “ I must go flrst.” 

“ No, no, uncle,” replied the young man, “ it is right that 


202 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


if we fall into the ambuscade laid for us, that I be the vic- 
tim. You are powerful — I am nothing. The vengeance due 
my murdered father is better placed in your hands than 
mine.” 

' “ Ismail,” replied Montbars, “ once for all, heed my words. 

You are the only being on earth whose kindred blood runs 
in my veins. Well, the day when you resist me, I will crush 
you without one atom of remorse. Would you not love a 
friend with all his faults ? Pardon my bluntness. The pre- 
rogative of command is my second nature. I cannot bear 
contradiction. Everything must yield to my will. Come,” 
continued he with a smile, “do not curl your moustache 
so. Between j^ou and me no insult is possible — self-love 
does not exist. Let me pass. If they kill me, you are my 
avenger.” 

Montbars, seeing that his pistols, which were slung to his 
waist by a cord, were in good order, clasped the hand of his 
nephew, put his poignard between his teeth, passed through 
the window and began the descent. 

Malcolm followed him 

At the same instant a terrific peal of thunder reechoed 
along the vaulted sky, and the storm so long gathering burst 
in all its fury. Montbars and Malcolm welcomed with joy 
the coming of that storm, whose fury, they thought, would 
protect them from the treachery of man. It w^as not prob- 
able thought they that the guards would be on the lookout 
for them at a time like that. Although the jailor had 
assured them with the most solemn oaths, that he would 
remove the sentinel, the fugitives knowing the treacherous 
game he was playing, attached no faith whatever to his 
assurances, so that when Montbars thought he was near the 
foot of the wall,, judging from the length of the rope ladder, 
he stopped for a second to take in his hand the poignard he 
had carried in his descent so far between his teeth. It must 
be understood that the distance between the window and 
the foot of the wall on the outside, could not be measured 


THE SNARE. 


203 


by the eye, until the fugitives had passed through the win- 
dow and then the darkness was so intense as to prevent the 
pavement, the existence of which was only suppositious, from 
being distinguishable from the visible darkness around. 

An unlucky blast of wind swayed the rope ladder so vio- 
lently, that Montbars in clutching at it to preserve his bal- 
ance with the hand that grasped the poignard, let the 
weapon drop. 

Fearing that the noise of the falling weapon would arouse 
the sentry, Montbars hesitated for a moment to let go the 
ladder and leap to the ground. Some seconds passed. 
Hearing no one stirring he continued the descent and Mal- 
colm followed liim. Montbars now reached the last round 
of the ladder. Grasping it with both hands he sought to 
touch the ground with his feet — and then — treachery ! His 
feet did not touch the soil. He swung with arms extended 
to their utmost limit in the air. Then a frightful thought 
flashed through his brain. Holding on to the last round of 
the ladder with his right hand, he took with his left a 
guinea from his pocket and let it drop perpendicularly. A 
second passed, then came a faint echo far down below him. 
There came a flash of hghtning. By that flash, he saw that 
the foot of the wall ran along the edge of a frightful preci- 
pice, which had been scraped so as to make the perpen- 
dicular face of both one unbroken dead wall. Then he 
understood the trap. “Ismail,” exclaimed he, “ steady there ; 
we are hanging over a frightful precipice,” 

Malcolm, gifted as he was with a fearlessness of spirit 
as human weakness is capable of, heard these ominous words 
as the knell of death. 

“ Courage, by boy,” exclainaed Monbars, as though he an- 
ticipated the effect of his warning; “remount the ladder.” 

‘[1 cannot,” said Malcolm, with his brow covered with the 
cold, clammy sweat of exhausted strength, “ I cannot.” 

“ Are you faint ? ” said Montbars. 

“ Yes, I am faint,” said the young man, clinging with quiv- 


204 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


ering muscles to the rope ladder. “ I am exhausted. Do 
not dispise me, my uncle. My spirit is calm; I fear not 
death, but my arms refuse to obey my will.” 

‘‘ Hold on, my child, I am coming,” replied Montbars 
warping himself up to Malcolm; “now put your arm around 
my neck.” * 

“No, never, Montbars,” exclaimed Malcolm. “I cannot 
accept this generous, but useless aid. You will destroy 
yourself without saving me. Regain the cell if you can, 
and then draw up the ladder. Hasten, my strength is rap- 
idly failing.” 

“ My God !” exclaimed Montbars, “ what time foolishly 
lost. Quick ! your arm around my neck. Quick, I say — 
fear nothing. This is but sport to me.” 

“ No, no, Montbars,” replied Malcom, “ it is fated that you 
live to avenge my father, and to carry to Isabel my last adieu 
—my last sigh of love,” 

“ Curses upon your iUtimed and misplaced generosity,” 
exclaimed Montbars. “ Do you not understand that I can- 
not leave you ? Every second I am losing strength also. 
Come, in the name of your father, put your arm around my 
neck or let me do it.” 

Suiting the action to the word, Montbars glided like a 
serpent between the rope ladder and the young man, so as 
to force him to obey. Then Avas presented a scene which 
the imagination cannot conceive or pen describe. The rope 
ladder, pendant as it were from a black cloud, moving like a 
floating mountain, from which lightnings flashed and darted 
their forked tongues of livid flame, swaying violently in the 
wind and swinging the fugitives to and fro like a pendulum, 
over a frightful abyss, whose yawning horrors were increased 
by the intense darkness which concealed them. Not a word 
was uttered. Nothing but the stertorous breathing of ithe 
two men, like the respiration of a death struggle. 

This terrible scene lasted two minutes. 

“ The vertigo which paralyzed me has gone,” exclaimed 


THE SNARE. 205 

Malcolm, unclasping his uncle’s neck and seizing a round 
of the rope ladder. “ I owe you my life.” 

The young man then quickly cleared the remaining rounds 
which separated him from the window of their cell. 

“In your turn, lend me a hand,” said Montbars calmly; 
“ I am used up — I am about to fall.” 

Malcolm, with his left arm around the stumps of the iron 
bars, extended his right hand to his uncle. In one second 
more the fugitives were in their cell. 

“ Well, my lad,” said Montbars, “ What do you think of 
that little ruse de guerre?. It was not so badly contrived, 
after all. And why in the name of the devil could I not 
think of that. I had my head so full of ambuscades, that I 
could not think of that. I took the wrong trail. Ah, scoun- 
drel of a jailor, I will be even with you yet, my beauty. 
Steady — hush — I hear footsteps. To action!” 

Montbars seizing one of the iron bars which had been 
cut off, placed himself on one side of the door and Malcolm 
on the other. 

“ Your poignard in your hand, boy. Look sharp 1” said 
he in a whisper. 

Scarcely had he uttered these words when a key grated 
in the lock and the door opened. A ray of light entered. 
The jailor followed with a dark lantern in his hand. 

“The nest is empty, window open and the birds have 
flown. The trap is a success !” exclaimed he, in an exultant 
tone. “ Now, my lord marquis, you can come in.” 

Scarcely had the jailor uttered these words when he rolled 
on the floor. His scuU was crushed by the ponderous 
iron bar in the hands of Montbars. 

A second after, the marquis of BarriUon, wrapped in a 
large cloak and broadleafed felt hat drawn over his brows, 
entered. As he did so, Montbars, picking up the dark lan- 
tern dropped from the hands of the jailor, put himself be- 
tween the marquis and the door, while Malcolm, seizing 
him by the throat and putting the point of his poignard to 


206 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


Lis breast, whispered in his ear, “ Not a cry — not a word — 
not a gesture, or this blade in your heart to the hilt ! ” 

The warning was useless. The stupefaction of the com- 
mander was such that he could not have articulated a sylla- 
ble had he been disposed to do so. His expanded eyes, 
trembling hmbs and ashy paleness, proved the intensity of 
his fright. 

Mercy !” he gasped, like the respiration of a drowning 
man, and falling on his knees. 

‘‘ Ah, that such a puppy as you should come within an inch 
of destroying two such men as we,” said Montbars, scorn- 
fully shrugging his shoulders. “After all, cunning is a 
weapon. The venom of serpents can kill as well as the fangs 
of lions. ’Tis an insect’s nature to sting.” 

Senor Commander,” continued Montbars, after a pause, 
“the fate of your jailor j^roves that we do not things by 
halves, and indicates very clearly your own fate. I cannot 
think you ought to complain of our severity.” 

Montbars then took one of his pistols, renewed the pri- 
ming and cocked it. 

The marquis of Barrillon crawled up to him and embraced 
his knees. 

“Do you cling thus to a miserable life? ” said Montbars 
putting the muzzle of the pistol to the temple of the ab- 
ject petitioner. 

“ Oh — oh— mercy — mercy !” exclaimed Barrillon. “ I am 
an assassin it is true, but I repent.” 

“His imbecility makes me ashamed of my manhood,” said 
Montbars, turning to Malcolm. “ Must we spare that man 
if he repents and consents to seiwe us ? ” . • 

“ I will be your slave,” exclaimed the commander. “ Give 
your orders and I will obey them.” 

“ You shall take us out of this fortress,” said Montbars. 

“ This instant, if you desire it,” replied the commander. 

“ Come along, then,” coolly replied Montbars. 

The commander exhaled a long sigh of relief, so great was 


THE SNARE. 


207 

liis joy at having liis life spared that he was near fainting. 

“Now, pay attention,” said Montbars. “My friend and I, 
will, each an arm. At the least symptom of treachery on your 
part Malcolm will bury the blade of his poignard in your 
heart, and I will blow out your brains. With these accom- 
modations, I hardly think that you wiU venture to play any 
tricks. Mind you, you have just received orders from the 
captain-general to set us at liberty. Now, forward.” 

Escorting, as it were, the two prisoners, his ample cloak 
partially conceahng them, the commander advanced along 
. the vaulted corridors, down the narrow stone-steps, through 
the guard-room, across the parade and finally emerged 
through the arched gateway of the outer walls into the free 
air. 

Each time they met a sentinel Malcolm pressed the point 
of his piognard on the breast of his conductor, just sufficient 
to make it felt. The click of Montbar’s pistol was audible. 
The commander gave the countersign and the party passedon. 

Half an hour later, after a zigzag descent, they found 
themselves upon a ledge of rocks washed by the sea. 

“ Now, my friend,” said Montbars to Barrillon, “ will you 
be so kind as to inform us, who is the inventor of that trap, 
which I may call a precipice trap, and which was so near 
being a complete success?’' 

“ I am,” replied BarriUon. 

“Ah,” replied Montbars, “you are not quite the simpleton 
I took you to be. I have done you some injustice. What 
prompted this disinterested benevolence on your part?” 

“ Jealously and revenge,” replied BarriUon. 

“Quite natural and as excusable in a Spaniard as any 
other lie. The count of Monterey wiU always be grateful 
for your kind exertions and benevolence. And now, my lord 
marquis, we wUl not detain you any longer.” 

As Montbars uttered these words, he raised his arm, and 
with his clenched hand struck BarriUon on the head, who 
reeled, staggered and feU, insensible. 


208 


THE BUCCANEERS, 


“ I have struck the scoundrel so as to stun him for an 
hour at least — I have not killed him — before he recovers we 
shall be beyond the possibility of recapture.” 

“Provided we are neither espied or followed,” said Mal- 
colm. “ I have several times seen suspicious objects gliding 
about among the rocks. Look there.” 

By a flash of lightning — ^the storm was still raging — Mont- 
bars, following with his eyes the direction of Malcolm’s finger, 
saw the figure of a man trying to hide behind a rock. 

“ At him,” exclaimed Montbars. 

One second more, Malcolm embraced with joy his ser- 
vant Jalman. 

“ How happens it, that we find you here at this hour ? ” 
said Malcolm. 

“You might have found me here yesterday — the day be- 
fore — and the day before that, master,” rephed Jalman. 
“ Senor Argillac told me that you would make your escape 
somehow; and this was the only spot we could effect a landing 
for concealment. I have spent three long nights on these 
rocks. Now, thank God, I am happy. I feel as if some- 
body had given me a sack of gold. Apropos of gold, I 
have not spent a shilhng of yours. But now hurry, the 
boat waits.” 

As they were picking their way over the rocky abatis to 
a sheltered nook where the rowboat lay, Malcolm asked his 
servant if he had heard anything of Isabel. 

“ Ah, that girl of cape Henry,” replied Jalman. “Well, I 
heard nothing of her. Only she came to see you the morn- 
ing after you left.” 

“ Came to see me ?” said Malcolm; “ that is impossible.” 

“ Lo, the proof — a letter she left for you,” quietly replied 
J alman, producing a sealed letter. 

An hour later the fugitives were on board the clipper, 
which Senor Argillac had chartered for them, which had 
been laying off the cape so long awaiting their escape from 
fort Saint Philip. 


THE SNARE 


209 


The first thing with Malcolm was to read Isabel’s letter. 
The Spanish beauty informed him that her father had re- 
ceived a mission to England. That he was to leave Havana 
shortly, and that he should stop sometime in Spanish San 
Domingo. 

“ Montbars,” said he, seeing that personage approach him, 
“ where will this vessel land us ?” 

“ At Leogane, in San Domingo,” carelessly rephed the 
chief of Buccaneers. 

Malcolm pressed the letter to his lips and raising his eyes 
to heaven, filled with tears of gratitude, whispered, “ God 
•will shield my love.” 

At dawn the ship was sailing before a fair strong wind for 
Leogane.. 

“ Adieu, land of beauty, where I leave not a friend, and 
my absence awakens no kind regrets,” said Malcolm casting 
a last look upon that Island-continent of Cuba, now sinking 
below the level of the horizon. 

“ No useless regrets, my dear boy,” said Montbars, over- 
hearing the apostrophe. “ That land so fair to the eye, would 
have been but the whited sepulchre of living death to you. 
You may one day crush it under foot; but now, look only to 
the bright and glori(3us future before you.” 

“ Oh,” said Malcolm, “ I could not regret leaving Paradise 
when Isabel is no longer there.” 

When Malcolm uttered these words his face shone with 
that radiant expression of joy so peculiar to men of san- 
guine temperaments and ardent natures. The fiery ordeal 
through which he liad just passed, the confession of Baril- 
lon, in spite of the mocking skepticism of Montbars, the in- 
formation of Jalman, the letter of Isabel, the. tropical sea 
rolling before him glittering in the golden rays of the rising 
sun, the bright sky above, the perfumed breezes which 
wafted him along, lent their enchantments to the time, place 
and circumstances, and made him drunk with joy. 

He wore no brilliant heraldic decoration, nor had he, 


210 


TH£J BUCCAHEEBS. 


Tbeyond tlie -name and liis noble ancestral lineage, either 
rank or wealth, or any of those dignities of place, power, or 
position, which made life so desirable in those days, yet 
on that bright morning, on a sunlit sea of the tropics, the 
letter of Isabel, simple and concise as it was, lifted for 
him a horizon and displayed a Paradise — bright, beautiful, 
eternal. In the few common-j)lace words, written by the 
hand of a woman whom he loved, with all the enthusiastic- 
passion of adoration, he read a confession which, to his hon- 
est heart and loyal spirit, was the sacred tie of heaven. 

Isabel had come to see, but not finding, him had written 
him a letter. This, following upon the heels of doubts, mis- 
givings, suspicions of treachery, heartless, cruel, fiendish past 
sufferings, came like an angel to roll away the stone from 
the sepulchre, and bid the resurrected to rise and enter the 
golden gates of Paradise. 

Had any one at this moment addressed him any common- 
place or simple question, he would have been incapable of 
replying. He was for the time unconscious of where he was 
or what he was doing. He saw without seeing and heard 
without hearing. One sole idea absorbed his mental pow- 
ers and his physical existence. That idea was that he was 
loved by Isabel. She was his world. * Beyond that world, 
all was void and chaos. 

It was Montbars that broke the charm. “Well, my 
boy,” said he, after gazing upon his enraptured face and 
graceful pose of adoration with a quiet mocking smile, 
“ I hope you like the x^rospect before you. What a trans- 
Xoorted gaze for transfiguration on pasteboard. Why, the 
great Amadis de Gaul would be a farthing light compared 
to you. The pious rapture of the blessed saint Ignatius of 
Loyola, would appear fiat and dull dong side of your adora- 
ble worshix^. If your constancy should be equal to your 
X^assion, it might accompany you to the tomb.” 

“ Say rather to Heaven,” replied Malcolm. 

“ Why, that would be eternity,” replied Montbars ; “ but 


THE SNABE. 


211 

fortunately at your age an eternity of love can be measured 
by three months of constancy; and that is a very liberal 
allowance.” 

“ Ah, Montbars, how can you speak thus ? ” said Malcolm 
in a tone of expostulation. 

I speak from personal observation and experience,” re- 
pHed Montbars. “ I have never been in love more than five 
days at a time, but out of pure complaisance and deference 
to you I will allow three months. If possible let us reason 
on the subject a little. To be successful in the ordinary 
affairs of life is not the most difficult. The most stupid 
general, aided by a freak of fortune, may pass for a great 
captain. The mosl essential part of the case is to profit by 
victory and to make good use of the advantage which 
chance, luck, or fortune, puts into his hands. Then, the 
tme genius of man reveals itself. Now, what are your plans 
for the future ? ” 

“ My plans for the future ? ” repeated Malcolm, with as- 
tonishment, as though the question bewildered him. “ Why 
I have none. I love Isabel Sandoval. She loves me. The 
future is before us. That is aU.” 

“ My dear boy,” replied Montbars, “ men who look to the ' 
future only, and neglect the present, always fail. There is 
one of two things — either Isabel Sandoval loves you, or she 
does not. In the first case, she will “not refuse you any- 
thing. Make her your mistress. In the second case, she 
will simply jilt you at a suitable time and place. Dismiss 
her from your heart and memory. Do not permit her to 
amuse herself at your expense ; still less be her tool.” 

Under the Ming of dhese words, uttered by Monbars with 
that tact of bon hommie so natural to him, Malcolm withered 
as though he sat on burning coals. 

“ Montbars,” said he in a solemn tone, “ the tie which binds 
you to my murdered father renders your person sacred 
in my eyes, and secures for you my reverence and devo- 
tion. It would be. ungenerous in you, to abuse that position 


212 


THE BUCCANEEBS. 


to wound my most sacred instincts and feelings. I conjure 
you in the name of your brother, Sir Donald Malcolm, not 
to trifle irreverently with my love for Isabel Sandoval, of 
Monterey.” 

“ As the subject of this discussion is painful to you,” said 
Montbars, “I will agree henceforth to banish her name 
from my lips, provided you permit me now to utter for the 
first and last time, all I think of her.” 

“ On that condition only — speak and I will listen,” re- 
plied Malcolm. 

“My poor boy,” continued Montbars, “I see you with 
pain, I may add grief, entering upon dark and crooked ways. 
"When a young man in the morning of life meets with a 
woman who amuses herself with the holiest of affections, his 
future is morally darkened. Well on my soul, on my honor, 
Isabel Sandoval does not love you. You may smile proudly 
and haughtily, but that does not abate one atom of my 
words. I admit she presents a rare combination of personal 
attractions. It is impossible to find a type of beauty more 
regal, a grace more perfect, an eye and smile so overpower- 
ing. I am neither stupid or blind. I see aU that. But 
with all her physical perfections, she has a heart of impla- 
cable cruelty — an iron will, that laughs at obstacles — an 
indomitable perseverance in the pursuit of her own selfish 
ends. Believe me, when I say, that if you deliver yourself, 
bound hand and foot, to this Delilah, she will make you her 
tool, her Sampson, a lever or a poignard. She will use your 
devotion to remove an obstacle or to defeat an enemy. But 
I repeat it, she will never love you.’" 

“ I am faithful to my promise, Montbars ; I hear you 
patiently,” said Malcolm with forced calmness. “ Go on, I 
pray you.” 

“ A woman, my nephew,” continued Montbars, “ never 
loves a man who is her dupe. She despises him. I foresee 
for you in the future, if you do not free yourself from this 
passion for that woman, terrible calamities. I would never 


THE SNARE. 


213 


say tliis to you, if I did not feel for you wliat I never felt 
for myself— /(?ar. In the name of your father, the only 
being on earth I ever loved, for whom my heart has wept 
tears of blood, in the name of that father renounce that 
woman. Between you and her, there is a fathomless abyss, 
which will ever yawn between you. But, your eyes flash 
with pride. You calculate upon your youth, your courage. 
Alas, it is not your want of fortune, rank or position, which 
places that unfathomable, impassable, gulf between you and 
her. If a million was necessary for your happiness, I could 
give it to you this instant. But,” here the Buccaneer hesi- 
tated and then resumed. “ I have done wrong in introduc- 
ing your father into this discussion. In the name of a long 
line of kings, whose blood runs in your veins, renounce that 
woman ! ” 

“ Konald Malcolm, of Montbars,” rephed his nephew with 
composure, “ you have been a witness to the veneration I 
feel for the memory of my father, in whose name I would 
bend my knee and yield my sword. Do not abuse that 
sacred memory, to operate upon my will. If my father 
were hving I am sure he would approve my choice and 
bless a love which accomphshes my happiness, and to which 
I will ever be faithful.” 

“ Your father — bless your love for Isabel Sandoval ! ” ex- 
claimed Montbars, with quivering lip and clasped hands. 
“Ah, luckless boy, if you only knew — ” and then as if 
ashamed of having committed an indiscretion, he added in 
soliloquy, what he uttered at cape Henry, “ ‘ What is written 
in Heaven must be done on earth. Why struggle against 
the manifest will of God, so plain, so extraordinar}^ This 
passion may be my lever. The ways of God are inscrutable. 
Does not crime always bring its own punishment ? ’ ” 


214 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

FIFTH OF AUGUST, 1689, IK SAIKT MART’S. 

While Montbars and his comj)anions are en route for 
the promised land, sharp and important events are matur- 
ing at the goodly city of Saint Mary’s. 

The interval between the 1st day of January and 5th of 
August, 1689, has been an interregnum of no ordinary 
anxiety and suspense to the proprietary party, reduced 
to a state of masterly inactivity, by the instructions from 
the lord proprietor in England — and of activity and zeal 
to their antagonists, the whig and Protestant party, which 
appellations covered all who were not tories or Catholics — 
a party of revolutionaiy audacity, encouraged, but so far 
not instructed^ by the leaders of the revolution in England. 

In that interval England had changed kings; but the 
“ de facto ” revolutionary king did not feel quite secure on 
his throne. Success had divided the counsels of the jDarty 
that put him there. 

Disaster, persecution and misfortune had united the Cath- 
olics and tories. James II., to recover his kingdom and 
crown, had invaded Ireland with a French army and fleet, 
and the whole Irish population had risen en masse to 
welcome their anointed king, who had convoked the parlia- 
ment of the realm to meet in Dublin, which he proclaimed 
the capital ad interim of the United Kingdom of England, 
Ireland and Scotland. 

A French army commanded by an accomplished French 
marshal had shut the English army up in their cantonments 
around Londonderry ; and the prospects of a second restora- 
tion of the Stuarts had become very bright and flattering to 
the tories in England, but more particularly to the proprie- 
tary party of the colony of Maryland. 


FIFTH aF AUGUST, 1689 . 


215 


Winter had passed, spring flowers had bloomed and died, 
the sultry summer’s heat was just ripening the autumn’s 
early fruits, when the denizens of Saint Mary’s city were 
startled by a clap of thunder in the clear sky of one August, 
day. 

Seven hundred men whose arms and accoutrements would 
create a very startling sensation at the present day in the 
same locality — namely, metallic helmets like an inverted 
porringer, cuirasses of steel with front and back pieces once 
bright like burnished silver but now tarnished with indeli- 
ble mildew of rust, and leather breeches covered in front 
with brass fish scales which would not brighten by scour- 
ing, and quaint muskets of huge bore completed the 
externals of these warriors. 

At the head of this column marched or rather rode a stout 
burly man whose red cheeks and redder nose glowed pur- 
ple in that summer evening’s sun. He bore in his hand the 
staff of a large blue flag, on the field of which was painted 
the arms of England and Maryland, and the words in Latin 
and English — “ Gulielmus et Maria Hex et Regina gratia 
J)ei et vol Senatus populusque Anglae ” — “ Their majesties 
William and Mary by the grace of God and will of the peo- 
ple and parliament of England.” As this body of men de- 
scended the wooded heights of Saint Mary’s, they began 
chanting in chorus the well known Covenanter’s battle chant ; 
they completed the last stanza as they defiled into the State 
House square. 

Coade, depld^ing his column into line between the State 
House and fort Saint Mary’s, demanded its surrender in the 
name of their majesties William and Mary of England. 

While Coade and Col. Digges, to whom the defence of the 
city had been entrusted by lord Baltimore and under whose 
' instructions he acted in this case, are arranging the terms 
of surrender a very different scene is transpiring in the 
house of Josiah Fendall. 

Ruth Fendall was not now sitting at the feet of her old 


216 


TEE BUCCANEERS. 


father reading aioud the ship files of the London Gazette^ as 
we have last seen her, but alone, standing pale and agitated 
at the library window, trying ’to look through, as it were, 
the cluster of town houses that intervened between her aatd 
the State House. 

The door opens and a young man of a very aristocratic 
air and distingue dress enters. His features are regular 
but rather feminine than masculine ; the expression rather 
animal than intellectual. His person is delicate, but lithe, 
active and strong. He is dressed in maroon velvet, wears 
a black ostrich plume in his hat and a narrow-bladed sword 
by his side, with a highly ornamental hilt. 

Ruth turns to meet him with a smile of sadness, but none 
the less tender. 

Ruth Fendall — poor weak girl, in her twentieth summer 
— loves her — her lover — her father’s objections to the con- 
trary notwithstanding, and like a Christian woman, hopes and 
prays. She has been lonely and sad all that long day of 
6th of August, 1689. Her father had gone some days pre- 
vious to attend a convention of the “ Godly men of New 
England” at the Providence Plantations, as Rhode Island 
was then called, whose ideas of colonial revolution were 
more coniprehensive than Coade’s, to petition the king and 
parliament to annul all colonial palatinate or plantation 
charters, and confederate the colonies under one colonial 
governor and one provincial parliament. 

This idea was more happily carried out one century later, 
1789, without the intervention of king ffnd parliament. 
Nevertheless, why should not Ruth Fendall smile upon her 
lover now, while her father was gone. It might be her last, 
she thought. 

“ What are they doing at the State House, and what does 
all this mean ?” said she, eagerly, as Philip Calvert grasped 
her half passive and half extended hand. 

“ It means,” said Calvert, in a serene mellitoned voice, 
“that John Coade is so over anxious to play Oliver Crom- 


/ 


FIFTH OF A UG UST, 1689 . 


217 


well ‘ en travestie^^ that he has got up a revolution without 
the usual ingredient of hard knocks given and taken ; that 
he has collected all the country bumpkins for miles and miles 
around, to the manifest neglect and detriment of Indian corn 
and York cabbages, and marched this mob of copper noses 
upon us, and proclaimed William and Mary king and queen 
of England, six months after they are seated on the throne 
where they are likely to stay until Marlborough turns traitor 
to his last treason, as they say he turns his coat as often as 
he changes his linen, and whatever other changes the meta- 
morphose may make, it will change John Coade into Jack 
Cade — a very natural transformation I may say. Neverthe- 
less, while our red nosed Noll was on the proclamation line, 
he might as well have proclaimed all the kings that have 
reigned since the days of the Saxon heptarchy. After per- 
forming this military promenade, to the great detriment of 
shoe leather and clean linen, he has formally demanded the 
surrender of fort Saint Mary’s in the name of the majes- 
ties aforesaid.” 

“ Why, may I ask,”, exclaimed Ruth vehemently, with an 
indignant flash from her eyes, “ is that man Coade, that 
ribald ruffian and tavern reveller, at the head of a popular 
movement like this ?” 

“ Simply, ma belle reine,” replied he in the same tone, be- 
cause he chose to put himself there. The position suits his 
taste and ministers to his vulgar rowdy ambition, besides he 
could stand the smell of that greasy, unwashed mob, which 
is more than I could have done, if a kingdom depended on 
it.” 

Here the nephew of his uncle shook out the folds of his 
scented handkerchief, as if he feared the aroma of that swel- 
tering multitude would reach him there, and then went on : 
“ As to what they are doing, I cannot precisely tell. The 
defence of Saint Mary’s city was entrusted by my worthy 
uncle, the lord proprietor, to Col. Higges, the commandant 
of fort Saint Mary’s. I am more Arcadian than political, 


218 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


and my forte is not military, and my worthy uncle knowing 
this, limited my cares, responsibilities and duties during his 
absence, to signing the official signature to documents and 
orders, after they were prepared by the secretary and 
chancellor, and doing the honors of the executive man- 
sion on reception days. Why should' I be more, or do 
more — I am neither heir apparent or presumptive under 
English law.'’ 

Here Ruth dropped her eyes. These words reminded 
her of what her father told her about Philip Calvert’s birth. 

Calvert resumed: “My good uncle, to* make me safe and 
contented under the disj)ensations of law and politics, and to 
stem the current of class society, has given me land enough 
to chase a fox all day without crossing my territorial limits 
and a rent roll long enough to enjoy life and make a woman 
happy. Dolce far niente., as the Italians say, I can be none 
the less devoted to my lady, because I eschew politics and 
glory — ^but revenoiis a nous montojis — Col. Digges has pri- 
vate instructions from the Lord Proprietor about the sur- 
render of the fort, in case of a demand in the name of the 
Idng de facto^ but he is very punctilious, as old fogy marti- 
nets usually are, about certain military ceremonies such as 
‘ saluting his flag,’ ‘marching out with the honors of war,’ and 
hence the protracted correspondence betv/een Digges and 
the fort, and Coade and the State House.” 

“Apropos of the chancellor,” interpolated Ruth, “what 
of Laura’s lover and his command, fort Saint Inigoes? ” 

“I believe,” said Philip Calvert, “ that he has discretion- 
ary powers.” 

“Then,” added Ruth, with a glow of exultation, “he will 
defend that fort to the last man and the last grain of pow- 
der. I hiow that Leonard Calvert Cornwalley. Happy 
Laura,” she added with a sigh. 

Philip Calvert’s cheeks reddened at the indirect sneer, 
which was not intended. 

“ If my information be correct,” he resumed with a slight 


FIFTH OF AUGUST, 1689 


219 


curl of his lip, “he will perform, a greater fool’s act, thmi 
e^n that. He has mined the fort, they say , to blow it up 
with himself, in case he be the last survivor. ” 

“ Poor Laura !” said Ruth. 

“Yes, poor Laura!” resumed Philip Calvert, with an 
affected tone of compassion, which Ruth thought rather sar- 
castic. “ Just fancy Laura Blackistone’s grand cavalier lover, 
so much like that Spanish prima donna, his mother, going 
up like a sky-rocket in a gunpowder blast, and then coming 
down a mass of carbonized flesh, with such a sickly stench.” 
Here Calvert shook out his handkerchief “ It reminds me 
for all the world of those sublimated old fogies who sang 
psalms at the stake, when they were burning, to prove that 
real presence was not reaV^ 

Here Ruth looked out of the window, biting her Ups 
with vexation if not pain. 

“ Who defends the castle in your absence,” retorted Ruth, 
with visible indignation, after a pause. 

“ A flock of geese guarded the walls of Rome one night,” 
replied Calvert, “ and surely one goose can perform sentry, 
even if he be drunk or asleep, for a ‘ castle ’ eighty by forty 
feet square.” 

“ That one goose, is my poor cousin, William Fendall, I 
presume,” said Ruth. 

“ And my rival and papa’s elect,” thought Calvert. 

“ But permit me to remind you,” continued Ruth, uncon- 
scious of Calvert’s mental interpolation, “ that the flock of 
geese that awaken drowsy sentinels, would fail to arouse a. 
poor drunken boy from a drunken sleep, however brave he 
might be when awake.” 

Tears gathered in the eyes of Ruth, as they usually did, 
when she foregathered the sad memories of her cousin’s 
career, who loved her, it is true, but liquor more. 

“ That reminds me,” said Calvert, evading, or rather re- 
coiling from the thrust, “ of the errand on which I came. I 
have brought my yacht to the foot of the garden, to take 


220 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


you to a place of safety, until the morning at least. To the 
Rosecroft House, where you will be cordially received.” 

“ To a place of safety !” exclaimed Ruth — a place of 
safety — when there is no fighting or pillage in the city. Am 
I not safe here ?” 

“ Our Cromwell and his saints have not yet tasted liquor, 
which they will do most abundantly as soon as the ‘terms 
of capitulation are agreed upon, and the fort and capitol 
surrendered. The weakness of a bloodless capture will 
invite aggression from such roughs in all its most loathesome 
forms. Chancellor Blackistone and his daughter have left 
the city, and their exodus is now being followed by all the 
ladies of the ton, if not of the town. While the opportu- 
nity lasts — it will not last long — we will take the river route, 
and thus avoid all molestation from stragglers or patrols or 
jnckets.” 

“My father,” said Ruth, faltering, “enjoined on me not 
to leave the house until his return.” 

“You may grieve him more,” said Calvert, “ if you 
obey his orders too literally, as he did not, and could not 
have foreseen this state of things. Come, get your cloak 
and hood ; we have no time to lose.” 

Urged by her fears and her love, and two motive powers 
which never lose influence with a woman, when seconded by 
the eloquence of the lover himself, Ruth left the apartment 
to get her hood and cloak. 

As her footsteps receded, Calvert said, but not loud 
enough for her to hear, “ Roman history teaches many 
facts, and two, that I remember, were, that capitols can be 
defended by geese, and Sabine maids made loving wives with- 
out the tedious delay of wooing or formula of marriage.” 

Ruth soon returned cloaked and hooded for night dew, 
and looking the more beautiful, as Calvert thought, in the 
dusky twilight by the contending emotions which glowed in 
her cheeks, by the incipient tear that glittered on her eye- 
lashes, started from their depths by the conflict between 


FIFTH OF AUGUST, 1689. 221 

duty and love. Slipping her arm into her lover’s, she left 
her father’s house — alas — on a returnless journey. 

Calvert remembered many a day and many a night 
afterwards, the long plaintive howl of the old stag-hound 
of a rare and famous breed, as the faithful animal saw his 
mistress descend the grassy slope to the water’s edge of 
Saint J ohn’s creek, where lay the swift and luxurious yacht 
of Philip Calvert. 

It was built of cedar wood, and carried twelve oars. It 
was long, low, light and narrow in the beam, the thwart 
upon which each negro slave oarsman sat, was just long 
enough to seat but the oarsman himself. Puth was care- 
fully lifted in and nestled on the stern cushions, which lay 
flat on the kelson ceiling. None but careful persons could 
get into that yacht without careening it to a capsize. 

Philip Calvert took as much personal pride in his yacht 
as he did in his .horse — in his horse as he did in himself. 
He excelled in all those athletic sports so peculiar to the 
English youth. He won all the regatta prizes, took the cup 
at all horse races, led in all the steeple chases, could swim 
like a Newfoundland dog, and was master of the sword. 
Few were willing to cross blades with him in the duello. 
He was not an imbecile, as the “ poco courante ” youth of 
large property and no occupation, mental or physical, vacant 
minds and idle hands, usually are. He loved Puth Fendall, 
as he fancied a horse, and was determined to get her, fair or 
foul ; and he stated his case, correctly and logically, when 
he told her that he was more “ Arcadian than political, and 
his forte was not military.” The law of lineage, as English 
customs willed it, did not make him in his own right a 
member of that class in which he moved. His wealth de- 
barred him from industrial pursuits. His acquired tastes 
and habits unfitted him for mental labor or intellectual 
pleasures. 'He w'as the type ol unemployed energies— ^of 
ambition exhausted in trifles. 

These miscalled “ favored sons of fortune ” are ever the 


222 


TEE BUCCANEERS. 


children of sorrow. They ever learn the value of blessings 
after they have departed; wisdom only from the wounds of 
a bleeding heart, unless their minds are early trained by 
strict Christian discipline. 

The yacht, propelled by the stout sinewy arms of twelve 
oarsmen, sped like an arrow from the bow, down Saint 
John’s creek, through the mouth of the same, then a nar- 
row but deep strait, into that bight of the Saint Mary’s 
river called the upper harbor. 

One of the carsmcn, an old negro slave, suggested the 
propriety of standing well out in the river and keeping well 
under the northern bank of West Saint Mary’s heights, until 
, they could get to Porto Bello, and then steering due south 
to Rosecroft House, at the junction of Saint Inigoe’s creek 
with Saint Mary’s river. 

“ Bah,” said Calvert, contemptuously, “ old Digges and 
Coade are too busy arguing a case of ‘ military humbug 
versus military possession.’ ‘Arcades ambo.’ Let them 
‘ protocol and cartel ’ to their hearts’ content. I shall not 
steer an inch out of my track.” 

The yacht doubled the quay with the curvelinear speed 
and sweep of a comet. It gained half the distance between 
the quay and Chancellor’s point, the two horns of the cres- 
cent or bight known as the lower or outer harbor, half the 
chord of the semicircle. The southeastern point of Saint 
George’s island could be seen, and a red light glimmered in 
a window of a “ cottage ornee,” built among the dark pines 
which covered the island. 

“ All right,” thought Calvert. “ One month’s honeymoon,, 
if no more. I do not think there will be ‘ any objections ’ 
after that.” 

At this instant there was a flash, then a jet of flame and a 
pealing report from one of the barbet guns from the fort. 
Ere the eye could bat, an eighteen-pound round shot, whir- 
ring and splashing, en ricochet, tore and crashed diagonally 
through the yacht, scattering her timbers like chafi* in 


FIFTH OF AUGUST, \m. .223 

the air, and plunging the crew struggling, gasping and 
clutching at imaginary straws into the water. 

Calvert saw the face of Ruth Fendall an instant above 
the water. It was sublimely beautiful, as her lips uttered, 
“ May we meet around our Father’s throne.” 

That shot was a random shot, fired in a useless ceremonial 
of hauling down one flag and running up another. The gun 
Avas trained down the river, Avhere no one was supposed, at 
that time, to be in range, if any suppositions Avere indulged 
at all. 

Calvert, sustaining himself in the Avater with his right 
hand, grasped to save Ruth Avith his left. 

The arm was nerveless, powerless, and the hand motion- 
less. His left arm had been shattered as it lay carelessly on 
the gunAvale of the yacht, between the elbow and the Avrist, 
and the hand hung doAvn by the torn and bruised muscles. 
Then that face was gone. As the lips uttered that prayer, 
Ruth had gone doAvn. The oarsmen had gone down. He 
was alone on the surface of the Avater, Avith nothing but the 
oars and fragments of his darling yacht floating around him. 
He saAV all this at one and the same instant as the lightning 
slain sees the flash, but hears not the thunder, or feels the 
mortal pang. But in an instant more his frame was wrung 
by a spasm of intense agony, from the compound com- 
minuted fracture of his left forearm. The sharp spicular 
of the jagged fragmentary bones penetrated the swollen 
and quivering flesh, like hot iron needles. Beads of clammy 
perspiration clustered on his broAV, and foam gathered on 
his lips. With the instinct of self-preservation, he struck 
out landward', and soon found himself on the sand beach 
AA'hich separates a lagoon called ‘‘Green’s Pond” in these 
days from the Saint Mary’s river. Then he sat doAvn by the 
water’s side and Avept the more, because he wept in vain, as 
he remembered that face that had gone from him forever- 
more. The spot Avhere he landed was an esplanade of coarse 
gi’avel and sand, shaded by gnarled cedar trees, with here 


224 


THE BTTGGANEEB8, 


and there beds of flowering cactus. The beach road from 
the quay to ‘‘Chancellor’s Point” was a favorite twilight 
ramble with the beaux and belles of Saint Mary’s, and many 
a time had he sat with Ruth beneath the limbs of old patri- 
archal cedars whose roots were washed by the river surfs, 
until her stern old father put an interdict upon these inter- 
views. The air was calm, and down the still waters there 
came a long j)laintive howl from that old stag-hound from 
that deserted home, and his soul was wrenched with a more 
fearful agony. 

“ I have murdered her,” he gasped. “ And she prayed for 
me — did she in that sublime moment — when her soul was 
transfigured unto a thing of heavenly beauty. Tear the veil 
from Mokanna’s brow and see the hideous thing I am. ‘ May 
Ave meet around our Father’s throne,’ these the last Avords 
to me, Avere spoken. Like Lucifer I have seen my last of 
heaven in life. Ever shall I stand at the gates of hell, as the 
Avaveg of that river ever floAV to the sea. She can never 
come back to me. That voice — that face — oh, God — it 
haunts me — it Avill be for aye.” Then came another parox- 
ysm. His teeth chattered, his muscles quivered, for a 
moment, and he fainted and lay like one dead near the 
water’s edge. 

As he lay an old man, with a long white beard and a. 
Hebrew face, Avith a lantern in his hand, came along and 
threw the light of the lantern into the fainting man’s face. 
Then the old man put his lantern doAvn on the sand, took a 
small knife out of his pocket and freed the shattered arm 
from the clothing around it. 

When he saAV the jagged ends of crushed bones protrud- 
ing through the bruised and SAVollen flesh, he shook his head, 
and muttered, “Not a moment to lose. Instant amputa- 
tion.” ’ 

Then he took out of his pocket an antique looking silver 
flask, and put it to the lips of the fainting man, and forced 
some drops down his throat. Leaving his lantern, he 


FIFTH OF A m UST, 1689. 225 

walked briskly away and soon returned with two others_> 
wbo lifted up the wounded man and bore him away. 

A long interval of days and nights of fever and delirium 
passed under the Jew’s roof After a long convalescence, 
Philip Calvert found that the revelations of low muttering 
delirium, connected with certain circumstances, had made 
known the treachery of a base act with a baser intent, with 
all the long premeditated meanness of lies. 

In twenty-four hours after that fatal shot was fired, the 
bodies of the drowned floated to the shore. Around Ruth 
Fendall’s neck was tied with a lover’s obsequious care, the 
perfumed handkerchief of Philip Calvert. Chancellor Black- 
.istone and his daughter had never left the city and had no 
intention of so doing, neither did any of the ladies of the 
“ ton,” as Calvert expressed it. 

Then came the tale of William Fendall, how drink after 
drink had been administered to him at the castle, until he 
lay down in drunken sleep, when he should have been at 
his uncle’s house. Then the keeper of the fishing and bath- 
ing lodge on St. George’s island told his tale of how the 
lodge had been so luxuriously fitted up for a lady. Then 
“Cromwell and his saints” did not taste any liquor at all. 
Coade and the sturdy Puritan yeomanry who filled his ranks 
knew that an unlucky turn of the revolutionary wheel in 
England, would put him under the ban, if any excesses were 
committed; so he kept his own head cool and his men dry. 
Instead of sack and pillage, Coade and his men held a long 
and protracted prayer meeting in the State House, and then, 
after putting sentries over public property and liquor stores, 
slept on their arms till day. Four men — supposed to be Buc- 
caneers or pirates — left the harbor and fired a school-', ouse 
on the outskirts of the town. In this house the ward of the 
Jew, Cancella, happened to be, too frightened to leave when 
she saw an armed body of hostile men entering the city. She 
was supposed to be the object of these men; but John 


226 


THE BVaCANEERS. 


Chesley of Parkton rescued the girl, and Coade arrested 
the men, and hung two of them on the spot, under a recent 
act of parliament for the “ suppression of piracy.” 

All these things Calvert saw too well in the eyes of those 
he met, when he returned once more to the city. Then came 
the dread isolation which maddens men, when each man that 
passes him by curses him with his eyes. 

But for his armless sleeve he could have entered mili- 
tary service, for then all Europe was in the field. Then 
those athletic pastimes which gave such healthy vigor to his 
frame, and so much animal enjoyment to his mercurial tem- 
perament, they too were gone. He had passed at one bound 
from joyous youth to untimely decrepitude. Henceforth he^ 
must walk the earth alone, in remorse for one base act, with 
his brow seared by the brand of Cain. And then he re- 
membered that face, only seen to be seen no more, and that 
prayer only heard to be heard no more. 

Many a long night, and many a long day, and many a long 
year, in aftertimes, when many things had changed for good 
and for ill, and generations of men had come and gone — after 
the city of Saint Mary’s had passed away, house after house — 
long after the State House had become a church, the square a 
grave yard, the fort levelled and its guns sold for old iron, 
the “ plain ” a cornfield, after three sovereigns had reigned 
and died, late in the days of George H., one fifth of 
August night, a gray-haired old man, in faded black vel- 
vet, with an armless sleeve, came to that spot where he 
sat by the river’s side on that fatal night of August 5, 1689. 
As the surf murmured at his feet, and the waves rolled by, 
he thought he heard a voice calling out to him from the 
deep, “ May we meet around our Father’s throne.” 

“ I am coming,” he muttered ; and then he laid down his 
staff upon which he had leant that long hot day as he 
travelled over a long and dusty road, and then he waded 
out till the waters deepened. Then he swam to that spot, 
where that face was last seen, and her voice last heard, and 
then he was seen no more. 


THE rnOMlSED LAND. 


227 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE PROMISED LAND. 

On tlie eveniDg of tlie 25tli of August, 1689, the ship 
which bore Montbars and his companions, entered the chan- 
nel between the Island of Tortuga and San Domingo, called 
by mariners, the Tortuga channel. 

It was 7 oclock in the evening; the horizon glowing in the 
last lingering rays of the sun, presented one of those inde- 
scribably beautiful sunsets so pecuhar to the tropics, of 
which neither pen or pencil can give an adequate idea. 

“Well, my boy,” said Montbars to his nephew, who was 
luxuriating in the perfumed land breeze, “ how do you like 
your new home ? Do you observe that luxuriant vegeta- 
tion, that cloud like forest, dark, grand and gloomy magnifi- 
cence, that sky of chrystal Vermillion and gold ?” 

“ Yain are words to express my admiration of the physi- 
cal grandeur before me;” said Ismail ; “ human language is 
mute and powerless in the presence of the sublime magnifi- 
cence of nature. My heart can only chant a hymn of praise 
and thanksgiving to God. That land is indeed the promised 
land of my dreams. This strait six miles in width, which 
separates Tortuga from San Domingo, presents a scene truly 
captivating to a lover of the beautiful and sublime.” 

Set mid ocean. Idee a basket of bright flowers in a green 
lawn, the island-rock of Tortuga, covered by its dark, green, 
forest, surrounded on all sides except the south, by a foraqid- 
able barrier chain of rocks, called by the French navigators, 
“ Coles de FerN It resembles an immense emerald set into a 
polished steel disk. To the south lays the island-continent 
of San Domingo, with its mountainous profile of fantastic 
shapes and creations of volcanic displacements, while to the 


228 THE BUCCANEERS. 

north, east and west the eye is lost in the immensity of the 
ocean. 

“ Is that island we are now coasting,” said Malcolm, with 
difficulty tearing himself from the contemplation of the scene 
before him, “ the island o,f Tortuga to which the exploits of 
the Buccaneers have given so much historical notoriety ?” 

“ The very same,” replied Montbars. “ That isle, situated 
twenty degrees north latitude and not more than forty miles 
in circumference, makes Catholic Charles tremble on his 
throne and casts a shadow over the soil of Spain. There are 
in that island but six habitable quarters, Basse Terre, Cay- 
orme, le Milplantage, le Eengot, le Point and Masson. The 
lovely huts which cover those quarters have seen more gold 
glitter beneath their palm-thatched roofs than ever entered 
the treasury of Louis XIY. The history of that isle will 1 3 
a singular one to write — one that would make many a young 
aspirant after wealth leave his home.” 

“ But if that island is so formidable to Spain,” said Mal- 
colm, “ why has not that nation subdued it ?” 

“ Spain has tried that experiment very often,” said Mont- 
bars. “ There is not in those sixteen square miles an inch of 
land that has not been moistened with human blood; but 
thanks to God w'e have always defeated them, and our foes 
are now smarting under the last defeat they received 
from the hands of Be Kossey. At this time the ‘ invincible 
armada ’ of Philip 11. could not take from us that soil so 
bravely defended — so dearly bought.” 

This conversation was interrupted by a hail from a canoe 
coming alongside, containing five men who boarded the ship 
with the agility of monkeys. These men were Buccaneers, 
and Malcolm scrutinized them with an eager and searching 
eye. They wore loose shirts, wide, loose trousers, felt hats 
with very broad brims which protected their faces from the 
sun, deerskin moccasins were cn their feet and athletic legs. 
A shelter tent, compactly folded, was worn tran.sversely 
across their shoulders lilce a scarf until their night bivouacs 


THE PROMISED LAND. 


229 


in tlie forest required their use. On the left side of their 
girdle they carried a sack containing hunting implements; 
on the right an enormous calabash containing gunpowder 
and finally a flintlock rifle, very long, very heavy, with a very 
large bore, completed their attire. These guns were made 
expressly for the Buccaneers, at Dieppe and Nantes, of very 
long range and very accurate aim. They gost from two to 
five hundred livres. 

The appearance of these strangers appeared to give Mont- 
bars great delight. 

“ The sight of those bloody shirts, those lithe figures and 
long guns makes me twenty years younger,” said he to Mal- 
colm, as he left him to meet the new comers. 

It appeared that Montbars was a favorite with them. 
Scarcely had they caught a glimpse of him when they wel- 
comed him with long and lusty cheers. 

“Well, my friends,” said Montbars to them, “what news 
in these latitudes? Do the Spanish feluccas pillage our 
settlements on the coast? Are prizes plenty and veni- 
son in abundance ?” 

“ The Spaniards are born, live and die robbers,” replied 
one of the Buccaneers. “Do you think, Montbars, that they 
would respect our settlements in your absence, when they 
make raids upon us in your presence ? As to venison these 
cursed hidalgos have foraged so much upon the covers that 
soon there w'ill not be a deer in the forest, and we old hners 
will have to go a filibustering to keep from starving.” 

“ It will be a long time I hope, my friends, before you will 
be reduced to such straits,” said Montbars. “ I too have led 
your forest life; I have experienced its great privations and 
its scant profits. Six months’ endurance does not produce 
the twentieth part of one hour’s successful sea-cruise.” 

“ That is very true,” replied another Buccaneer; “if our 
life has its hardships, it has its corresponding enjoyments. 
What joy can be compared co that we feel in seeing the wild 
bull fall at the crack of our rifles, to hear the ringing cry of 


230 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


our hounds in full chase, so fierce upon the game, so docile to 
our voice of command ? The sea presents a grand and beauti- 
ful sight I admit, but how inferior to our continent-forest, 
gilded by the rays of the rising sun and waving in the morn- 
ing breeze. Then is the time I weep for joy. I have been 
at Tortuga, Port Paix, Leogane, and seen your cruisers come 
in freighted with the booty of the Spanish cities; I have 
heard the exultant cheers of the crews, laden with the plunder 
and gold, and witnessed the grand carousals of the return- 
ing braves — all that never caused me one pang of jealously 
or envy. How inferior thought I all that coarse dissipation 
to the pure and serene joy I feel when I see the smoke curl- 
ing above the roof-tree of my cottage. With what delight 
I hasten to meet one who awaits my return with love’s im- 
patience, to eat the sweet bread she has prepared and to 
sleep the sound sleep of the weary. Believe me, Montbars, 
I would not exchange my humble life of toil for yours, bril- 
liant as it is.” 

Malcolm, upon hearing these words from the lips of the 
Buccaneer, could not contain his emotions of surprise, more 
particularly as the speaker was an impersonation of barbaric 
ferocity. 

“ Who and what is that man ? ” asked he of Montbars, 
after the visitors had put off from the ship. 

“ An ex-professor of beUe-lettres,” was the reply. 

“ You surely jest,” replied Malcolm. 

“Indeed I do not,” said Montbars; “the population of 
San Domingo is unique and peculiar and totally different 
from any other social existence. Here you meet men con- 
nected with the noblest houses of Europe reduced to the 
last extremity, thankfully receiving any alms doled out to 
them. Alongside of these decayed gentry you find the 
lowest in the social scale rolling in wealth and luxury and 
sitting in high places. In this isle the only test of merit is 
valor and success , — nothing succeeds hut success. A filibuster 
whose reputation is established, can always in an emergency 


THE PROMISED LAND. 


231 


find bankers to advance any required amount to purchase, 
equip and man a ship with a bold, skillful and reckless 
crew.” 

“ The more risk, the more gain,” said Jalman insinuating 
himself into the conversation. 

“ Yes my lad, that is the idea,” said Montbars. 

“ God’s mercy,” exclaimed Jalman, clenching his fists, “ I 
am itching to get hold of those Spaniards, to avenge their 
cruelties upon the Indians, which you have told me of. 
Poor innocent Indians, roasted like chestnuts. It malies me 
cry to think of them. Ah, rascally Spaniards, the Devil will 
give you a turn on the same gridiron some of these days.” 

“ Tell me, Montbars,” said Malcolm, what is the differ- 
ence between a Buccaneer and & filibuster ? ” 

“ The original French settlers of San Domingo were herds- 
men and hunters from necessity,” said Montbars. “ The 
hardy pioneers who in the first instance merely sought the 
prime necessities of life and wherewithal to exchange for 
powder, guns and clothing, etc., found such a superabund- 
ance of game, wild cattle, horses, buffalo and deer, that they 
turned their attention to commerce on a larger scale, and 
began to cure the flesh and tan the hides of these animals 
for exportation, and which they sold in the neighboring 
islands, and as the Carribee Indians, the aborigines of the 
Antilles, were accustomed to cut their prisoners of war in 
pieces and cure their flesh upon a species of hurdle or 
wooden grate called barbacoa, and under open sheds called 
boucans; so our countrymen treated their beef and venison 
as the Carribees did their prisoners, and were called by 
them Buccaneers. 

“ From that, this Indian epithet has become Gallicized and 
is a general appelative term for the French herdsmen and 
hunters of San Domingo. For a long time owing to the im- 
mense unexplored interior of the insland, the existence of 
the Buccaneers was unknown to the Spaniards who were 
settled on the eastern side of the island, and who claimed 


232 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


the whole of San Domingo. It was not until the Buccaneers 
became very numerous and pushed their hunting grounds 
up to their plantations and settlements that the Spanish 
colonists learnt the existence and felt the power of the Buc- 
caneers. Then they called to their aid troops from Spain 
and Cuba to expel the int^udel^•s from the island. For 
twenty years I was a combatant in this struggle. I have 
witnessed some terrible and appaling scenes. Nothing sur- 
passes that bloody struggle in atrocity. There was not a 
single instance in that whole war where quarter was given 
or asked. The Spaniards, finding that they could not drive 
us away by open war resorted to stratagem, as you have just 
heard one of those men say. They destroyed the game, 
hoj)ing thereby to starve us out, but an accident baffled that 
policy and laid the foundation of our power. Scant fare 
drove us out of our hunting grounds, and under the pres- 
suie of necessity and despair, we united with certain English 
rovers or filibusters as the Spaniards call them. This con- 
federation dates the era of our j)Ower. Our success on the 
sea was such that France, heretofore so disdainful of her 
San Domingo colonists, now hastened to recognize them and 
sanctioned our political existence by sending over a gov- 
ernor whose business is to receive a tenth of our prizes. 
The name of Buccaneer is now applied to the French settlers 
in San Domingo, and we are proud of that title and we ex- 
cuse the ignorance of those who confound us with ih.Q fili- 
buster sN 

“ I thank you Montbars for this information,” said Mal- 
colm. “ What is now the position that France has on the 
island of San Domingo ? ” 

“Magnificent,” exclaimed Montbars one half of the 
island belongs to us. Our frontier line extends from cape 
Lobas on the south across to cape Samana on the north- 
west. This territory, equal to two of the largest depart- 
ments of France, contains many large and beautiful prov- 
inces watered by fine rivers. From cape Lobas to cape 


THE FIVE HUNDRED. 


233 


Tiburon are many fine harbors with splendid anchorage, 
where shipping can set tempest and hurricane at defiance 
and float the whole navy of France. They are called Joa- 
quin, St. George’s bay, Hement’s bay and port Congon, 
Near this port there ‘is an island nine to twelve miles long, 
twenty-four in circumference. It is called the isle a Yaches. 
On the same meridian of port Congon, on the north side of 
San Domingo, is the great bay or ‘ bight ’ of Leogane. It is 
the Eden of physical geography. It receives the waters of 
three rivers and may be called the Naples of the tropics. 
Our richest and best settlements are Port Paix and Leogane. 
Finally an immense prairie or savannah, as the Spaniards 
call it, running north and south from coast to coast, sepa- 
rates French from Spanish San Domingo. This savannah 
is the arena, the dark and bloody battle ground of our inter- 
colonial war, in wliich nine times out of ten we have gained 
the victory.” 

Montbars was about to continue his narrative, when the 
ship dropped anchor at Basse Terre, a port of the island of 
Tortuga. 

“Let us land,” said he; “I am eager to meet my old 
comrades in arms. We will renew this conversation, for I 
have many grave matters to tell you.” 


CHAPTER XXY. 

THE FIVE HUNDRED. 

The landing of Montbars at Basse Terre, a village situated 
below the fort which commanded the entrance to the harbor, 
was a triumphal ovation. Accustomed as the Buccaneers 
were to those startling events which were in the routine of 
their lawless life, the sight of their illustrious chief produced 
such enthusiasm as to prove that their devotion was com- 
mensurate with his popularity. 


234 


THB BUCCANEERS. 


Stoical and self-possessed as was Montbars, he could not 
suppress his emotions at these spontaneous manifestations 
of devotion and attachment. 

As to Malcolm, he gazed with an all-absorbing fascination 
upon this crowd of unique and picturesque adventurers. 
Some were clad in garments stiff with gold embroidery, 
wearing plumed hats looped with diamond buttons, and 
jeweled collars of court dignataries; while the rags of the 
other half could scarcely conceal their nakedness. There 
seemed to be no medium between these two extremes. 

In fact, among the Buccaneers, custom had enacted a law 
to enjoy the present and let the future take care of itself. 
Liable at every moment to a sudden and violent death they 
squandered their wealth so that if a Spanish bullet laid them 
low upon the field of battle they could at least, with their 
last breath, boast that they had left no passion ungratified, 
no luxury untasted. A short life they contended should be 
a merry one. 

Gorgeously or squalidly clad, there was one fact as re- 
markable as it was invariable among the Buccaneers — the 
calm repose of conscious strength. Cool, resolute, reckless, 
daring was patent, visible and unmistakable in their bronzed 
and manly faces. 

About one hundred yards in the rear of the fort was a 
cottage viUa or hacienda, as it was called, of Montbar’s in a 
luxurious grove of orange trees. And thither he and his 
nephew bent them steps. 

“Now, my boy,” said Montbars, after they had received 
and dismissed theii last visitors, who had come in crowds to 
pay their respects, “ as the governor is absent and we have 
accomphshed the work of reception, let us retire into my 
sanctum, if it so please you. I must have I say one long 
and grave conversation with you.” 

The cottage of the Buccaneer in the centre of a delicious 
garden park, was a luxurious retreat, such as a king might 
envy. It concentrated within itself all that Sardanap^us 


THE FIVE HUNDBED. 


235 


could wisli in his sybarite day dreams; and though Malcolm 
could not define the value or use of the splendor which glit- 
tered before his eyes, these combined effects for the instant 
annihilated his senses. 

“ Truly, Montbars,” said he, after a pause, “ had you fore- 
told me what I now see, in spite of the implicit confidence 
I have in your words, I could not have forborne to have 
mentally accused you of exaggeration or falsehood. It is 
indeed doubting one’s senses,” 

“ Yes, my httle cabin is tolerably well furnished,” said 
Montbars with perfect nonchalance. “ There is about a mil- 
lion spent in paintings, statuary, chandeliers, plate, etcetera, 
too tedious to enumerate. Well, we sometimes have Euro- 
pean visitors, and we must make some sacrifices and conces- 
sions to their natural and personal idiosyncrasies. Swing 
yourself in that hammock, light your pipe and listen to me.” 

“ My nephew,” said Montbars, after a few moment’s re- 
flection, “ I must tell you that I am extremely well pleased 
with your conduct ever since I saw^on that lonely hut 
by the sea side on the Atlantic coast. In that inter- 
val you have shown a zeal, a spirit and an intelligence which 
confirmed the opinion I had formed of your father’s son. 
Now, I tell you with the frankness of a man who never per- 
mits affection to conceal the truth or utter an untruth, that 
this day you are an excellent sailor and as capable of com- 
manding a ship as any veteran Buccaneer. All you want is 
the simple baptism of fire, and then I can safely say you 
are equal to the best of us.” 

“ Thank you, Montbars,” said the young man, blushing 
deeply under such a compliment from such high authority; 
“I do my utmost to justify your good opinion.” 

_ “ A truce with interruptions and compliments,” said Mont- 
bars quickly. “ I approach the matter of which I have fore- 
warned you. First and foremost, do you swear on your 
honor and your oath never to reveal what I tell you? Par- 
don a formality enjoined upon me by duty and position.” 

“I swear it,” said Ismail Malcolm. 


236 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


After. a pause Montbars resumed. “You are already 
aware of the power which the Buccaneers possess in the 
American seas, but you are ignorant of the true number of 
bona fide Buccaneers who compose that association. It is 
not over five hundred men. Listen, but start not. This hand- 
ful of men, bound together by a mystic tie, holds at bay the 
power of Spain; and to-morrow, if it so pleased them, could 
free themselves from the crown of France — from Louis XIV. 
himself, this handful oi men we realize such enor- 

mous wealth, and direct at will with greater facility and 
j)romptness, because our invisible power does not chafe the 
haughty spirits of those who call themselves our 'Subjects. 
Thus we direct at will I say all the corsairs of the ocean. I 
am the chief, absolute and sovereign, of these five hundred 
men. Whenever the chance or fate of war strikes down 
one of these wo choose from many candidates the most 
worthy for his successor. But before the successful candi- 
date is enrolled as one of us he must pass three years of 
probation. And what an ordeal ! It is terrible. Not only 
do we exact from him extraordinary moral and physical 
courage, but an iron will and self-denial almost superhu- 
man. Adroitly stimulating and inflaming his animal pas- 
sions we strew his path with snares and temptations, dice, 
wine, women. No devil’s bait, no sensuous gratification is 
spared him. Does he hesitate a second even in the delirium 
of j)assion to dash from his lips the untasted cup and in- 
stantly obey an order however trival or unimportant from 
his chief, that instant we thrust him from us forever.” 

“ Do you not fear the treachery of that man ? ” asked Mal- 
colm, “ after becoming master of your secrets.” 

“ The dead are not in the habit of speaking and the tomb 
is usually silent,” cooly replied Montbars. 

“ What ! ” exclaimed his horrified nephew. “ You mur- 
der the deficients — you become assassins ! ” 

“ Boy,” calmly replied Montbars, “ before you give vent 
to such sentimental emotions, learn at least what our life is. 


THE FIVE HUNDRED. 


237 


Your blood is too warm, your beard is too dark, to judge and 
condemn men grown grey in our service. • Experience is too 
often a barsli counsellor but always infallible. You forget 
that we are out of the world, not in it. Outlawed by civilization 
in our struggle for existence we avail ourselves of means 
and agencies wbicli tlie ‘ civilized ’ world does and should 
reject. Our power is in might, not in right. But that is 
not the question before us now. Among the prerogatives 
of. my rank and position is that of enrolling in our ranks 
without the probationary ordeal any one whom on my oath 
and my honor I judge worthy. Would you become one of 
us? To-morrow you shall know our resources, our plans^ 
prospective and present ; you shall be initiated into the 
mysteries of our order. But bear this in mind, I exact of 
you, if you desire to avail yourself of the advantages I pre- 
sent to you, that you become the impersonation of my will, 
the reflection of myself. My wishes become the law of your 
being. If I should say to you put that woman from you, it 
is done — though she be the brightest, fondest dream of your 
youth, the idol of your idolatry. You see I speak with un- 
disguised frankness. I love you too well to mislead or de- 
ceive you. Beflect before you commit yourself by word or 
by act. Your acceptance or your refusal is irrevocable.” 

“ I thank you, Montbars,” said his nephew, with measured 
solemnity, “ for the confidence you have reposed in me. I 
have no need of time for reflection or consideration. My 
determination has been made and it is irrevocable. The 
most holy passion God breathes into the heart of man, next 
to filial love, is love of liberty. My father is dead. Liberty 
is yet mine. I refuse your offer. In your turn, Montbars,” 
continued Malcolm, seeing that his uncle was about to 
remonstrate, “ in your turn listen and be silent. My frank- 
ness will be commensurate with your own. I have faith, 
holy and unalloyed, in your friendship, and I cordially 
reciprocate it. I will not disguise from you that sometimes 
your incomprehensible acts chiU, dampen and repulse the 


238 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


yearnings of my heart towards you. Brother of my father, 
you have exacted from me to call you ‘ Montbars/ and I 
have obeyed you. But in this solemn crisis the uncle dis- 
appears and I see but, the martyr brother of my martyred, 
father. I seek but one object — to cleave my path with my 
sword and yet be free. Your advice I will always receive 
with gratitude — tjour assistance I refuse. When you can say 
to me, there stands the assassin of your father, avenge him as 
you may or can, that day you will find me the reflection of 
your will, your slave ; in all else l am free.” 

The fearless tone and ingenuous frankness of the youth, 
so far from displeasing the Buccaneer, seemed to give him 
increased delight. “ Pure blood never lies,” said he, gazing 
at his nephew with a moistened eye. “ You have just 
spoken of my poor brother. Ah well — do as you list. You 
are right in refusing my aid. Fortune presents nothing 
great or grand to a young heart like yours unless won by 
the sword. Ismail Malcolm your sole heritage is the honor 
of your father's name. Be the child of your own work. 
Thus and thus only will you honor his memory.” 

The next day Montbars, Malcolm and Jalman were on 
board the same ship which brought them from fort St. 
Philip, steering for Leogane, one of the most flourishing 
cities of the Antilles, where the French governor usually 
resided. 

“ My dear boy,” said Montbars, putting his arm within 
that of his nephew as they stood upon the quarter-deck, “ I 
think it necessary before we weigh anchor on a separate 
cruise to give you some useful hints upon the new life you 
are about to lead. Since it is a decided fact you refuse to 
be initiated into our mystic circle, you must at least bo 
advised of the j^eculiar manners and customs of your new 
associates. Those men vdio are for a time to be your com- 
panions have a very lofty idea of their personal independ- 
ence. Except in the strict line of service for which they 
have specially- enlisted, every one does just as he pleases. 


THE FIVE IWNDBED. 


239 


Indifferent to either approbation or censure from others, 
except in obeying orders from a superior officer, they carry 
their ideas of personal liberty on their cruises ; each looks 
out for number one and lets number two take care of him- 
self. If number one wishes to hear himself sing while his 
shipmates are sleeping, no matter — the sleepers may sleep 
as they can or may. All these perversities and annoyances, 
however provoking and trying to the patience, and temper, 
must be borne without a murmur. Stoical indifference to 
such is a part of their education. They have one inviolate 
and sacred law which, like the laws of the Medes and Per- 
sians, altereth not — that is a fair division of plunder. He 
who violates this law, which is rarely done, is severely pun- 
ished. He forfeits all he has gained and is not allowed to 
cruise again. He is quarantined. Woman, that apple of 
discord, is not allowed on ship board except as a prize taken 
on the high seas. A violation of this law is punished, as 
desertion or cowardice before the enemy, by death. Though 
the guilty one be the best sailor and bravest man in the 
service, the sentence is executed. After anchor is weighed 
on a cruise private combats or duels are forbidden among 
the crew. In case of a quarrel the settlement is postponed 
until the cruise is over, and then it is decided with deadly 
weapons by the death of one and sometimes of both com- 
batants. Every one must keep his weapons in perfect 
order, it is an object of emulation among them. Besides 
these, all lights and fires on board must be extinguished at 
eight o’clock in the evening, all unfinished bottles emptied 
on the deck, and no gambling with cards or dice on a 
cruise. These latter’ regulations are sometimes evaded 
when a master of a ship or clipper undertakes an expedi- 
tionary cruise ; the men who shij) under him must bind 
themselves to perfect obedience, otherwise they will ba 
mulcted of their share of plunder at the end of the cruise. 
A Jew banker advances money to fit out the expedition aT 
an enormous percentage, and a fund is laid aside for a sur- 


240 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


geon and carpenter. These are the principal items ; you 
will learn all the rest in the course of time. To speak of 
the courage and daring of those whose companion you are 
fated to he, is useless. Figure to yourself an audacity 
which fears neither God, man or devil, and even that 'svill 
give you an imperfect idea of these men. The Spaniards 
are thoroughly convinced that the Buccaneers are the vice 
gcrents of Satan and that they are invulnerable. This idea 
contributes largely to our success.” 


CHAPTER XXYI. 

BEAU LAURENT. 

In forty-eight hours Montbars and his companions arrived 
at Lepgane. 

The appearance of this city struck Malcolm with surprise. 
He never expected to see such an entrepot of elegance, 
luxury and refinement in the land of the Buccaneers. All 
around him arose.stately mansions, commodious warehouses, 
and shops teeming w'ith their ample stores of costly trifles 
which the fashionable world covet and value so much; young 
men magnificently clad, caracoling on fiery Andalusian 
steeds; charming Creole girls, blushing and smiling under 
their lace mantillas while carried along in elegant palan- 
quins borne by slaves; in a word, all the externals of a com- 
munity gorged with gold and an advanced civilization 
passed in review before him. 

“ What a difference,” said Malcolm to Montbars, “ between 
Leogane and Tortuga! AVe can scarcely believe they are 
beneath the same sky.” 

“The difference is easily explained,” replied the Buc- 
caneer chief, “We spend at Leogane our Tortuga dividends. 
This city is the Paris of the Buccaneers. Besides, it has 


BEAU LAURENT. 


241 


considerable commerce with European ports. But now we 
are in front of the government house or rather, as they call 
it, the Palace. Will you wait for me? I shall be gone five 
minutes.” 

Scarcely had Montbars entered the palace to make his re- 
port to governor Ducasse when the ears of Malcolm caught 
the sound of approaching music, and quickly he saw fair 
faces at all the windows, pedestrians grouping in the streets, 
and crowds of merry negroes gathering at the corners — 
dancing and gesticulating with glee and exploding with 
mirth so peculiar to their race. 

“ Will you be so kind, sir,” said he to a young man pass- 
ing, ‘‘to tell me what all that music and commotion 
means ?” 

“ It is Beau Laurent. He arrived yesterday and is now 
making his tour of the city,” replied the young man. 

“ Who do you caU Beau Laurent ?” inquired Malcolm. 

“ What, not know who Beau Laurent is?” said the young 
man, opening his eyes wide with astonishment. 

“ This is the first time I ever heard his name uttered,” 
replied Malcolm. “ But that is easily explained; I have just 
arrived here.” 

“ But before you came Iiere,” said the young man, “ you 
were elsewhere ? ” 

“ Quite likely,” replied Malcolm with a smile. “ I have 
been to Havana and I came from Virginia in America.” 

“ Well,” said the young man, “ is not Laurent known there, 
too ?” 

“ Not that I know,” replied Malcolm. 

“ That is queer,” replied the young man. “ Though I 
have never quitted the Island of San Domingo, it appears to 
me that Laurent should be known as far as the wind can 
' blow and sea can roll.” 

This reply, made with such naivete and earnestness, 
pricked the curiosity of Malcolm. He was about to reiter- 
ate the question, but the stranger did not give him time. 


242 


TBK BVCCAl^^EERS. 


Hold oe/' said he; “they are just turning the comer. 
I will go and see.” Then the young Creole strode ofi, leav- 
ing Malcolm puzzled and bewildered. 

“Ah, good — good I” ejaculated Jalman, standing behind his 
master; “the music is coming this way. How unlucky they 
have not an old Yirginia banjo among those flutes, fiddles, 
and horns — that would put my heels in motion.” 

Then appeared a singular and unique sj^ectacle — a man, 
tall, strong and beautiful, in the jprime ot manhood, magnifi- 
cently clad — preceded by a band of music consisting of 
four viohns, two flutes and two horns — marched along un- 
der a canopy borne by slaves in rich livery. A crowd fol- 
lowed this unique procession at a respectful distance. 

“Begone blackguards! Get out of my way; I cannot 
breathe free for you,” fiercely shouted the man under the 
canopy to a group of negroes who, with dilated eyes and 
gaping mouths, were gazing with wonder at the spectacle. 
“ Here, cuffees, here is some money,” continued he, throw- 
ing a handful of gold pieces among them; “and now be- 
gone.” 

“ Hurrah for massa Laurent !” j^elled the negroes, in their 
enthusiastic admiration of the man and his money. 

At the same time a lattice window was opened and a 
bouquet of choice tropical flowers was thrown at the feet of 
this Paladin of the canopy. 

“ These flowers are very pretty but they have' no per- 
fume,” said Laurent, sarcastically, and then disdainfully 
kicking them out of his way, “nevertheless good intentions 
at least should be rewarded.” 

With these words this singular personage took off of his 
neck a costly chain of emeralds and threw it upon the bal- 
cony upon which the lattice window opened. > 

The lattice was violently closed and a sob of anguish was 
heard. 

“Ah, ha!” said Laurent in a loud tone, with a scornful 
shrug of his shoulders, “it appears that you prefer dia- 


BEAU LAUBENT, 243 

monds. Wliy tlie devil did you not say so in simple words ? 
I cannot read the lexicon of flowers.” 

The unfeeling crowd yelled with laughter and Laurent 
passed on. 

That side of the street was now glowing and sweltering in 
the rays of the tropical sun and the cortege crossed over to 
the shaded side, and Malcolm, to give it pass-room, stood 
close to the wall of the palace. 

“ Hello, friend,” said Laurent, halting abruptly in front 
of him, “ are you not aware that I require the whole of the 
pavement when I condescend to use it?” 

“ Are you speaking to me, sir ?”’ said Malcolm, not pre- 
suming that any one would treat him with intentional inso- 
lence without a cause. 

“Certainly, sir,” replied Laurent; “clear out. No jaw — I 
despise louts — get out of my way.” 

Patience and submission were not the characteristics of 
Malcolm; nevertheless the impertinence and insolence of 
Laurent was so gratuitous and unprovoked that he thought 
for the time that he had encountered a madman, and he ex- 
amined him closely. 

Beau Laurent appeared to be between thirty and thirty-five 
years of age; his features, though of feminine delicacy, bore 
an expression of great daring and resolution; his eyes of 
greenish gray, glittered with a basilisk mockery in their 
fixed and steady gaze which few could bear; his nose was 
aquiline; his dark brown hair, falling in long perfumed tres- 
ses upon his shoulders, was elaborately dressed and brushed 
back from a brow large and intellectual; a delicate mous- 
tache, curled upwards at the corners according to the Span- 
ish fashion, displayed his thin lips curling with an expres- 
sion of Satanic scorn and irony; tail and muscular as he was, 
his proportions were symmetrical and statuesque; a woman 
might have envied his delicate hands and feet; in his grace- 
ful and nervous carriage could be detected extraordinary 
strength and activity; his broad, square shoulders and the 


244 


TME BUCCANEERS. 


very prominent development of his breast making bis waist 
appear more delicate than it really was — bis arms, ratber 
too long and too muscular to accord witb tbe delicacy of bis 
bands, confirmed tbis. 

A second passed as Malcolm made these observations up- • 
on one who was a fac simile of bis own physique except 
tbe bead and face. Apollo found himself vis a vis witb 
ApoUyon. 

“Well, friend,” said Laurent, who bad employed tbe same 
period in surveying Malcolm, “ must I quicken your wit by 
throwing you to tbe other side of tbe street ? ” 

At these words tbe first supposition of Malcolm disappeared. 
It flashed upon him that tbe intolerable insolencr to which 
be was subjected came not from a madman, but from a 
bravo who, in tbe wantonness of pride and insolence of 
strength, sought a quarrel for pastime. His cheeks reddened 
and bis heart swelled witb rage. “ Su’,” said be, carrying 
bis band to tbe hilt of bis sword, “ I am not famiHar with 
tbe manners and customs of San Domingo, nor cognizant 
witb their style of bospitabty, but tbis I know, that every 
insult is avenged in blood, and you have insulted me.” 

Malcolm drew bis sword and took tbe position of “guard.” 

“ I am waiting, sir,” continued be, “ draw if you please.” 

But Laurent did not follow Malcolm’s initiative; be was 
purple witb rage. “ I fight witb you,” be exclaimed, “ hot 
as it is ! Why that would beat me more than you are worth. 
Get out of my way, I say, or you die.” 

At tbis last insult, aggravated by its antecedents, Malcolm 
could contain himself no longer. “ Imbecile,” exclaimed be, 
advancing towards his adversary and striking him witb tbe 
flat of bis swor.d; “take tbe reward of cowardice and inso- 
lence.” 

A bluish flame seemed to flash from tbe eyes of Laurent 
and an expression of deadly ferocity contracted bis brow. 
Drawing one of his pistols from bis belt, be cocked and lev- 
eled it at bis antagonist. 


BEAU LAUBENT. 245 

Malcolm, folding his arms and returning the eye of his 
adversary, said, Coward and assassin, do your worst.” 

Scarcely had he uttered these words when a dull, heavy 
sound like a butcher’s maul on the head of an ox was heard, 
and Laurent, rolled upon the ground. 

“ Ah ! did you fancy that you could pistol my master 
when his servant was at hand ?” said Jalman, brandishing 
his shilaleh and speaking to the stunned and insensible Lau- 
rent. “ Not yet, spawn of Satan; wait a while and I will 
finish you off as you deserve.” 

The cortege of Laurent gazed upon this scene with stu- 
pid amazement. 

“ Steady, Jalman,” exclaimed Malcolm, seizing and staying 
the uplifted arm of his servant. “ Do you not see that the 
man is not in a condition to defend himself ?” 

“Ah, well indeed ! Could you have parried his pistol 
ball with your carte and tierce ? The wretch is an assassin 
that deserves not your pity. Let me just give him a few 
taps more-— just a few,” said Jalman, beseechingly. 

“ Is it because you have just saved my life that you refuse 
to obey me?” said Malcolm, reproaching him in an affection- 
ate tone and taking the hand of his servant between his own. 

“ Ah, master, when you talk and act that way I am done. 
I can say nothing. As you wish it I will let the rascal alone. 
It is a pity I did not finish him,” said Jalman, putting liis 
formidable cudgel under his arm. 

The attendants of Laurent were about to raise him, when 
a young girl, coming out of the house from the balcony of 
which the bouqet was thrown, ran to him; and, kneeling by 
him, staunched the blood, which trickled from a wound in 
his head, with her handkerchief. 

This girl was singularly beautiful, and. scarcely sixteen 
years of age. In the abandonment of her devotion she ig- 
nored the existence of a curious, impertinent and tittering 
crowd. Large tears trickled down her cheeks though not 
a word or cry she uttered. 


246 


THE BUGCTANEERS. 


“ Be composed lady,” said Malcom, kindly and respect- 
fully; “his swoon is only the result of a violent blow — it is 
not mortal. See, already he opens liis eyes — he breathes.” 

While Malcolm was speaking the felled man became con- 
scious of his situation. His eyes met those of Malcolm. 

Sir,” said he, to Malcolm, “to knock a man down like a 
beef is not a proper answer to an interrogative. I hope 
now for a satisfactory explanation of your rudeness and ob- 
stinacy.” 

Sir,” replied Malcolm, “to level a pistol at a man who has 
but his sword for defence is a very cavalier trick. You have 
merited more than once the epithet I have applied to you.” 

“Quite probable,” replied Laurent. “I had just left a 
jovial dining party and gave too much latitude to my viva- 
cious spirits. Yield the pave to me, and in consideration of 
my indiscretion I will ignore the past. But if you are ob- 
stinate in your refusal — why then — we will fight it out on 
that hne.” 

“The last alternative suits me best,” replied Malcolm. 
“ Doubting your condition to fight to-day, I will say to-mor- 
row.” 

“ Defuse, Laurent, I implore you,” exclaimed the fair girl 
who had flown to his relief like a ministering angel. “ Sir,” 
continued she, turning to Malcolm, “ why do you persist in 
your ridiculous obstinacy ? All men here humor his fancies 
and give him the right of way.” 

“ Silence, Marianne,” exclaimed Laurent, with savage ve- 
hemence. “instead of meddling with matters which con- 
cern you not you should have remained at home; you 
should at least have had more woman’s pride about you 
than to have made yourself such a public escolandre. I am 
neither your brother, husband or lover.” 

“ Oh, this is too mortifying,” exclaimed the poor girl, flee- 
ing with precipitation and hiding with her hands a face pur- 
ple with shame and mortification. 

“As to you, sir,” continued he, turning to Malcolm, “who 


BEAU LAUBENT. 


247 

will guarantee that if I let you go now I shall find you to- 
morrow?” 

“ I willj' said the clear and sonorous voice of Montbars, 
who, standing in the door of the palace, had been a silent 
and attentive witness of the whole scene, the acts and 
actors. 

At the sound of that voice Laurent started and turned 
pale. But it was but momentary. 

“ You know that man — you his security ! ” hissed Laurent 
with quivering and blanched lips. 

“ I know him to be capable of chastising your insolence, 
-and I answer for him as I would for myself. Laurent,” 
continued Montbars, after a slight pause, “ I would give ten 
years of my life to change places with him to measure 
swords with you.” 

“ Highly probable,” was the cool, sarcastic reply of Lau- 
rent ; “ but unfortunately for me tlie organic law of our 
pious brotherhood ' puts an estoppel upon your benevolent 
wishes. But may be, in spite even of that, a day may come 

“ Enough,” replied Montbars ; “ but one word more — 
name time and place.^' 

“Next day after to-morrow, six o’clock in the morning, at 
■ the foot of . Mount Pithon, in the Roger grove,” replied 
Laurent. 

“ Very well,” said Montbars, “ we will be there. TiU then 
au rewir. Thank God, that you, who have so often escaped, 
will now reap, the reward of your unnumbered crimes.” 

“ I know,” replied Laurent, with a smile, “ that my death 
will be the joy of your life ; but I have a well founded hope, 
if not moral certainty, that your happiness will be indefinitely 
postponed. I have fought thirty duels, and every time I left 
a dead man behind me.” 

Laurent then bowed his leave, turned to go away, but 
suddenly halting, said, “ Who gave me such a rap over the 
head ? ” 


248 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


“ I did/’ said Jalman. “ It may have been rather harder 
than was necessary, but that was your own fault. You 
should not have attempted to assassinate my master. You 
acted the assassin and I treated you as such.” 

“You merely prevented me from committing a dirty action. 
I thank you — here is your reward,” said Laurent, throwing 
at the feet of Jalman five forty dollar gold pieces. 

Jalman sprang forward to gather up the scattered gold, 
muttering as he picked them up, “ It is indeed as Montbars 
said, that hard knocks shakes down the gold drops in this 
droll country. I think that Laurent might have given them 
more gracefully. But that is nothing. Here is gold — gold 
— gold,” and he chinked the pieces between the palms of 
his clasped hands. 

Montbars then led his nephew from the crowd which was 
now awed into breatliless silence by the rank and reputation 
of the chief characters in this exciting scene. 

“ My brave boy,” said Montbars, in a tone of mingled sad- 
ness and affection, “ I fear that you have an ugly affair on 
your hands. I would give my whole fortune if your evil 
star had never led you across the path of this Laurent.” 

“ You are wrong, Montbars, to indulge in such gloomy 
anticipations,” said Malcolm. “ On the word of a gentle- 
man, I am firmly convinced that I shall come, out of this 
affair victorious. But who is this Laurent ? ” 

“ Beau Laurent, as he is called here,” said Montbars, “ is 
one of the demi-gods of our new Borne. His audacity and 
sagacity, his abilities, his thorough knowledge of everything- 
connected with his occupation, are indeed so extraordinary 
that we are at a loss sometimes to classify him as man or 
devil. Nature has gifted him with some of her brightest 
qualities, but withal satanic pride, the remorseless cruelty 
and wanton perversity of a fiend — in a word he believes 
nothing, spares nothing, and fears nothing. For a long time 
I have suspected that he is secretly endeavoring to under- 
mine and supplant me. Let him take care. I have my eye 


BEAU LAURENT. 


249 


on him. I cannot conceal the fact that he is very popular — 
his generosity and munificence are boundless — his purse is 
open to -the needy. An unaccountable being. At times I 
think there is somethmg good and noble in him. It may 
be that some dark shadow has darkened the morning of his 
life. He treats the women with sovereign contempt, and 
yet they are all run mad after him. That girl you saw run 
out to him so eagerly, and whom he repulsed so brutally, is 
a daughter of one of the noblest and richest families in 
Europe, now hving at Leogane. The man is a mystery 
even to me.” 

“ At any rate his name does not indicate illustrious birth,” 
said Malcolm. 

“ There you deceive yourself,” said his uncle. “ Why do 
I call myself MorUhars ? In the isle of San Domingo there 
is not a Buccaneer, unless it is old Grammont, who bears 
his family name. We have cadets among us who belong to 
the most aristocratic families of France and England.” 

The uncle and nephew passed the remaiuder of the day 
together. 

The next day they took the road early to Mount Pithon. 
Montbars wished to make a survey of the duelling ground. 

Jahnan, with a sad and anxious mien, followed his master. 
With the munificence of Laurent he had purchased a Buc- 
caneer rifle, powder and balls. 


250 


THE BTICGANEEE8. 


CHAPTER XXYIL 

GREY BEARD. 

Although Montbars and Malcolm were well mounted, 
they consumed three hours in crossing the three leagues 
which separated Leogane from Mount Pithon. Bewildered, 
wherever his eye met the horizon, the young Virginian, if 
we may call him such, at times would unconsciously check 
his horse to gaze in ecstasy upon the grand scenery which 
the physical geography of San Domingo presented. At 
every step the horizon lifted only to reveal beauties more 
and more surpassing — those which he had seen sank into 
comparative insignificance — until the beautiful infihity op- 
pressed and enervated him. Then came the thought of one 
of incarnate loveliness sharing with him these sublime soli- 
tudes of earthly beauty, unknowing and unknown by the 
world beyond. This was the Eden for Isabel. He could 
scarce breathe. 

“ My boy,” said Montbars, who thoroughly understood 
the abstraction of his nephew, “knowing as I do your 
courageous spirit, I must tell you that Laurent is a very 
formidable antagonist. I know that this information will 
have no effect whatever upon your spiritc ; that you will the 
more sustain the honor and dignity of your long line of no- 
ble ancestors. This is much, but you must do more when 
you find yourself vis a vis with Laurent ; you must feel in 
your heart the ferocity of a tiger and the blood-thirst of the 
wolf. All your energies, powers and faculties must be con- 
centrated in the destruction of that man. You know that I 
am incapable of deceiving you; have you not implicit faith 
in me ?” 

“ As in my father if he were living,” replied Malcolm. 

“Well, then,” resumed Montbars, “I tell you upon my 


GREY BEARD. 


251 


name, my oath, and my honor, that Laurent deserves his 
death at your hands — yours of all others. That his hisulU 
ing rudeness to you is the least offence that calls for your 
vengeance.'''^ 

“ I do not understand you, Montbars,” exclaimed Mab 
colm ; “ explain yourself.” 

“ Do you still love Isabel Sandoval ?” said the Buccaneer 
with a slight smile. 

“ Do I love her ? If possible more than ever,” was the 
passionate reply. 

“ Well, then, boy, you must kill Laurent,” said Montbars 
without change of tone or expression. “ He speaks of the 
daughter of the count of Monterey with withering con- 
tempt. Hundreds of times I have heard him apply to her 
sarcastic and ribald expressions which a well-bred man 
would hesitate to apply to a common prostitute. I would 
have withheld this from you if I could. It stings me to 
think, that in this T must invoke your passion for one of the 
accursed daughters of that accursed race of Spain, whom 
my soul abhors; but I sacrifice my hatred to your love. 
Let your idolatry for Isabel avenge her wrongs' in the blood 
of her traducer. Then I will bless even her ; for look you, 
boy, I love you as your father would were he living.” 

“ Then this Laurent has dared to traduce Isabel, has he ?” 
exclaimed Malcolm with a glittering eye and hissing tongue. 
“ Then God of vengeance on earth, he shall die, even if I 
have to throw myself upon the point of his sword to accom- 
plish my vengeance.” 

Before reaching the foot of Mount Pithon, they had to 
cross the Roger grove, one of the most charming natural 
parks in San Domingo. Covered with wild orange trees, 
this park presented a variety and luxuriance of tropical 
vegetation of which no European can form an adequate 
idea. The floor of this silent temple of nature was covered 
by a turf so delicate, so compact, that it conveyed the idea* 
of a velvet carpet. On all sides the scarlet cacti mingled 


252 


THE B UGGANEERS. 


their gorgeous hues with the bright, variegated colors of a 
thousand flowers. Innumerable parasitic vines, serpentining 
in spiral wreaths around the trunks of trees festooned them- 
selves into arches and tangled into ganglionic bouquets with 
wild and graceful disorder, upon which perched birds with 
plumage reflecting the emerald, topaz and ruby, swung in 
the perfumed air. It was a sight to fill the soul with 
holy, solemn awe as it entered this — the temple of nature’s 
God. 

“ A few paces more and we are at the spot,” said Montbars. 
“ ISTear here is the ranche, as we call the dwelling of the pro- 
prietor of this park — a staunch old Buccaneer — who will cor- 
dially receive us. We will leave our horses with him, as 
the foot-path which leads to the rendezvous is too steep to 
use them.” 

In ten minutes more the party reached the ranche of the 
sylvan Buccaneer. The view of this dwelling, at the entrance 
of an extensive glade, embowered in the shade of enormous 
trees of centuries’ growth, seemed to realize to Malcolm one 
of those day-dreams which the magnificent scenery of the 
panorama over which his eyes had roamed that day, inspired 
him. Isabel alone was all that was wanting in this Paradise. 

Built like a Swiss chalet with a Spanish roof, the dwelling 
of the Buccaneer presented a chaste and unique architecture. 
In the rear of the house they saAV a garden of delicious fruits 
and rare flowers. The “ boucan ” or curing house of the 
proprietor was a quarter of a league from his dwelling. 
This, distance prevented the pungent odors produced by the 
curing of the flesh of wild bulls, boars and deer, from in- 
commoding the inmates. 

“ Who and what is our host ?” inquired Malcolm of his 
uncle. 

“ He is one of the most original characters we have among 
us. W e call him ‘ Grey Beard,’ ” was the reply of Montbars. 

W^ithal, he is one of the most logical, methodical and obser- 
vant men you can imagine under the circumstances. He has 


GREY BEARD. 


253 


lived here thirty years, and has become so isolated and 
weaned from the interests of the outside world, that he 
views humanity through the medium of philosophic truth, and 
not that of passion, prejudice or interest. He is sagacity 
personified, and in spite of his bluntness, which will startle 
you, I love him very much. He is one of the best sharp- 
shooters on the island. He has reduced the manual of 
firing to an exact science, which he Avill soon learn you. He 
will begin by teaching you how to bring down at a hundred 
paces, a squirrel swinging on a twig. His aim is unerring. 
We will spend the day in preparation for to-morrow’s 
fight.” 

“ How is that ? ” replied Malcolm ; “ do we not fight with 
our swords ? ” 

“Alas, no, my boy,” said Montbars, gravely; “if that 
were all, I should feel no concern. In our duels, swords 
decide when bullets fail. You advance — you fire, then if 
one or both combatants are not ‘ hors de combat,’ swords 
come in for their share of the game. Are you familiar 
with the rifie ? ” 

“I was the best marksman at cape Henry, where the 
wreckers brought down geese and swan on the wing with 
their rifles. My fame extended even to Jamestoioii and 
Saint Mary\%^'* said Malcolm, smiling, with a slight empha- 
sis upon Jamestown and Saint Mary’s. 

The reply seemed to give pleasure to his uncle. “We 
will renew this conversation presently,” said he. “ Here 
come the servants to receive us.” 

While Montbars was speaking a dozen of those enormous 
stag-hounds, used by the Buccaneers in the chase of wild 
bulls, boars and deer, came yelping from a kennel near the 
house. 

“ Hello, my friends,” said he ; “ it "*s a long time since I 
have seen you. Nevertheless, can’t you recoghize an old 
friend ?” 

The dogs, which appeared at first to be furious, seemed to 


254 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


understand these words, and began to fawn at the feet of 
the Buccaneer chief and then to leap up upoii him with their 
canine caresses. 

Fine dogs, how quick they recognized me,” said Mont- 
bars, turning to Malcolm. “ How many friends have I who 
after so long an absence would have done this? Hone ! 
Here is Grey Beard.” 

The Buccaneer thus named was small and delicate in per- 
son. He wore the usual Buccaneer costume, but made of the 
best materials, and fitting 'him with a neatness very different 
from the careless neglige style of his associates. 

“ Ah, is that you, Montbars ?” said he, in a slow and modu- 
lated tone ; “ it has been some time since we have seen each 
other.” The two grasped each other’s hands. 

“ Have you thought of me once in a while ?” said Mont- 
bars. 

“ Once in a while indeed,” replied Grey Beard, in the 
same phlegmatic tone. “ I have prayed for you every day, 
and am too happy to know of your safe return.” 

“ Well, my old friend,” said Montbars, “here is a young 
man who has need of your instruction. He is my nephew, 
and I love him as my own. You must give him some les- 
sons in the use of the Buccaneer rifle. He fights to-morrow 
with Laurent.” 

“Then he will be killed,” replied Grey Beard, without 
change of tone or expression. “ However, you require some 
refreshments first. Let us go in and find some bottles of 
Bordeaux wine.” 

The interior of the Buccaneer’s house accorded with the 
exterior. Elegance, neatness and system predominated. 

Ah !” exclaimed Jalman, when his eye drank in all these 
things at a glance, “ what a home for a man.” Then, with- 
out another word, threw his hat on the carpet, making the 
sign of the cross, knelt and uttered a short prayer before 
the picture of St. Patrick, he saw hanging on the wall. 

This seemed to delight as well as surprise Grey Beard. 


OREY BEARD. 255 

A smile like a sunbeam in a garret passed over his hitherto 
passionless and frigid face. 

“ You seem to know that saint,” said he to Jalman, after 
he arose from his devotions. 

“ Know him, indeed,” said Jalman, indignantly — “ a singu- 
lar question. Do I look like a Turk or a haythen ? Know 
him ? We are intimately connected ; he gives me every- 
thing I ask. Kow, master, I have no fears for you. That 
saint I find here so unexpected is a sign from God. I will 
consent to be hung to-morrow if you do not kill like a mad 
dog that fellow. The flutes, fiddles and horns — if I only had 
wax candles.” 

“ I have them,” said Grey Beard. 

“ You — you have wax candles ? - You old bull hunter,” 
exclaimed Jalman, astonished and delighted, you have me 
there. You must be a good and brave man.” 

The Buccaneer grasped the hand of the servant, and then 
opening a sideboard took out some bottles of wine and 
placed them on the table. 

“ Wine is a very fine drink,” said Jalman, with a shrug; 
“ but it is nothing to old Virginia cider.” * 

The taciturn host left the room and shortly returned, set- 
ting before Jalman a singular shaped pitcher. 

“A pitcher of qider!” exclaimed Jalman, clapping his 
hands. “ Ah, and such cider !” First tasting and . then 
draining the pitcher, then sighed for joy of what he drank, 
or of sorrow because he left no more. 

‘‘ That boy pleases me,” said Grey Beard to Montbars. 
“ Does he belong to you ? Give him to me, and I promise 
not to whip him any more than he deserves.” 

“Jalman belongs to my nephew,” said Montbars; “I 
doubt whether he will part with him.” 

“ I offer you in exchange ten pounds of powder and two 
of the best dogs in my pack,” said the host, turning to 
Malcolm. “ A great bargain for you.” 

“Jalman will never leave me; at least if he does, it will be 


256 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


of his own free will,” said Malcolm, smiling at the singular 
offer. 

“ Ah, well, if you cannot he my servant, you will at least 
be my friend. Is it not so, Jalman ?” said Grey Beard. 

“ Your friend in life and in death,” said Jalman. 

After his guests had refreshed themselves. Grey Beard 
took up his rifle, whistled for his dogs, and followed by 
Montbars, Malcolm and Jalman, took the road to Mount 
Pithon which rose like a cone from the plain. In remote 
ages it had been a volcano. The extinct crater and the 
frightful crevasses which seamed its sides were still visible. 
It was a quarter of a league from Grey Beard’s house, and 
was separated from the Roger grove by a sort of natural 
alley, three hundred yards wide. It was here that the Buc- 
caneers chose their duelling ground. 

Grey Beard’s preparations were neither long or compli- 
cated. Cutting a stake two inches thick and six feet long, 
he planted it in the ground and then measured off two hun-‘ 
dred feet. Then putting his rifle in the hands of Malcolm, 
he explained briefly, precisely and lucidly how it should be 
handled, shouldered, aimed and fired. These instructions 
given, he gave the command, ‘‘fire.” The rifle flashed and 
cracked, but the stake y^as not struck. 

“ISTot bad for a beginner,” said the phlegmatic instructor, 
with a satisfied air. “Your ball passed two inches to the 
left of the target.” 

“How do you know that?” exclaimed Malcolm. “Can 
your eyes follow a ball in its track?” 

“Hot exactly,” coolly replied Grey Beard^ “ but it is easy 
by observing your motions and the line of your fire to tell 
to a hair’s breadth the track of the ball.” 

“ Grey Beard speaks truly,” said Montbars. 

This uneqnaled skill caused Malcolm to reflect. “ I can 
now” thought he, “form an adequate idea of the anxiety 
Montbars feels in the issue of my duel with Laurent. But 
no matter, let his skill be what it may, he will not kill me. 


GRET BEARD, 257 

The prophetic inspiration of my heart tells me that I. shall 
again behold Isabel.” 

At the fourth fire Malcolm struck the target, and after 
two hours trial he struck it three times out of every four. 

“ I never would have believed, had any one told me, that 
a pupil could have acquired such proficiency in so short a 
time,’’ said Grey Beard exultingly, for this of sill others was 
the sport to quicken the blood of the phlegmatic Buccaneer. 
“ Let us go on in the good work and Laurent will have no 
advantage over you. I must now learn you to fire without 
taking time to draw a bead.” 

After four hours spent in drilling his pupil. Grey Beard 
pronounced him finished and nothing more to learn. 

Twenty minutes more, when they were seated at a sump- 
tuously laden dinner table, a strain of sweet, clear melody 
like a bird warbling with a human voice in a distant grove, 
fell upon their ears. 

Malcolm’s frame quivered with agitation and Jalman 
bounded from his seat. The voice was chanting the hymn 
of the Virgin. None but an exile and wanderer can form 
an adequate idea of the sensations which the sound of some 
well known and Avell loved song at home produces — evok- 
ing* sweet and saddened memories of the loved and the lost. 

o 

Thus the strains of that heavenly music fell upon the ears 
of our exiles. 

“It is my Nativa,” said the stoical Grey Beard, proudly. 


258 


TRE BUCCANEEHS. 


CHAPTER XXYIII. 

KATIVA DEL KOCO. 

The door opened, and in the open way there stood one of 
singular grace, and beautiful in her originality. 

It was a young girl of seventeen years, wearing a dress 
something between a Grecian tunic and a French chemise, 
reaching a little below the knee, of the finest, whitest and 
costliest of linen. On her head was a broad-brimmed hat 
of white straw. On her feet were very neat buckskin 
moccasins, laced closely around her ankles. In her left 
hand she carried a large bouquet of flowers ; in her right a 
light and short rifle, so elaborately ornamental that it was 
difficult to tell whether it was manufactured for use or show. 
The stock was polished mahogany ; the plates, bands and 
screw heads were solid silver — while the glittering steel bar- 
rel vied in lustre with the ornamental work. A sash of red 
Chinese crape encircled her waist, on one side of which hung 
a silver powder flask, on the other a kid-skin satchel contain- 
ing balls. Xo sculptured marble ever presented such a 
pleasing originality of face and expression. Her large black 
eyes harmonized with the reflection of her glossy hair, which 
fell like a jet cloud upon her shoulders. Her mouth, designed 
with an artistic model of feminine sweetness, symphonized 
Vfith the silent music of her searching and somewhat roving 
eyes. Her complexion, somewhat tanned by the rays of the 
sun, was of that warm and glowing tint which is but the 
radiant glow of a happy heart. As straight and as supple 
as a bullrush, the person of this girl had that inexpressible 
something of chaste fearlessness which recalled the idea of 
Diana the huntress. 

At the sight of Malcolm, she halted in her advance towards 
Grey Beard like a frightened fawn, but quickly recovering 


NATIVA DEL ROGO, 


259 


from her momentary surprise or fright, she archly tossed 
her head with a mutinous air, ran to, and embraced, the old 
Buccaneer. 

“ Good evening, father,” said she . in a voice the notes of 
which were so clear, so distinct, so musical, that they resem- 
bled the warbling of some happy bird inspiring others with 
joy; “you did not expect me back so soon, did you?” 

“ Indeed, I did not, my child. What has happened ? 
Why did not Gourd Head come back with you?” asked 
Grey Beard in rapid succession. 

“ Gourd Head found the trail of a wild boar, and he must 
follow it,” replietl she, throwing her hat from her with care- 
less and graceful indolence, letting fall her hair like a mass 
of silk floss ; and running to Montbars, continued, “ Oh, I 
am so happy to see you among us again. Think what hap- 
pened to Gourd Head and me this morning. A whole com- 
pany of Spanish lancers chased us until near midday. I 
hope you are going to kill a plenty of Spaniards. If you 
want me to love you, you will never take any prisoners. 
They are outlaws and ruffians unworthy of mercy. Tell me, 
Montbars, have you not brought me some pretty present ? 
It has been so long since you have given me anything.” 
The Buccaneer’s daughter paused for a moment, and then 
quickly resuming, without giving Montbars time to reply, 
“ Tell me, Montbars, who is this young man seated by you ? 
He stares at me so. He pleases me very much — he does. 
And that one,” she continued, pointing to Jalman, who 
blushed up to his eyes, “ Holy Virgin, ain’t he ugly !” 

“ These strangers, Nativa,” said Montbars, smiling pater- 
nally upon Grey Beard’s daughter, “ are loyal English sub- 
jects of king James, as your ancestors were before you. 
They deserve your love and esteem, because they are honest 
and brave. The one who seems to please you is my nephew. 
He is called Sir Ismail Malcolm. The other is his faithful 
friend and -servant.” 

“ Since you are as good as you are fine looking. Sir Ismail 


260 


THE B UGGANEERS. 


Malcolm,” said Nativa, seating herself beside him, “ we will 
become friends, will we not ? ” 

“ Lady, you honor me too much,” said Malcolm, taken all 
aback and scarce knowing what to say. 

“ Why do you call me lady exclaimed she with a shade 
of chagrin passing over her beauteous face. “You do not 
like me; you refuse to be my friend.” 

“Ismail,” said Montbars, laughing, “you do not under- 
stand her. She, whom we call Nativa Del Roco, is a 
complete child of nature. She ignores the hypocrisies of 
civilization. What she thinks, she says. What her heart 
feels, she reveals. Let not your vanity be awakened by her 
approaches and confessions. They mean nothing you find 
in the vocabulary of fashion. She is simply yielding to the 
instinctive sympathy she feels for you. She sees in you but 
a playmate — nothing more. Owing to the unbounded lib- 
erty she enjoys, and the active life she leads, the love and 
respect which the Buccaneers, old and young, feel for her, 
Rativa, in the midst of a licentious and corrupt society, has 
preserved her childlike purity and innocence. See with 
what an astonished air she looks at me. She does not even 
understand me ; nevertheless, it is not for want of intelli- 
gence — far Irom it. With all her simplicity, her intellect 
is very bright, only her woman’s heart has not been invaded 
by love.” 

“ Montbars, you are always talking such tedious stuff,” 
said ISTativa with a charming pout ; “let me entertain your 
nephew as I please. Do not interrupt us. I have many 
things to tell him. Montbars tells me you are good and 
brave,” continued this fascinating original, turning to Mal- 
colm. “ I have a true heart too. Dpon whom then in this 
island can I bestow my affections but upon the good and the 
brave? There are ever so many people here, who, if I 
spoke to them as I do to you, would be so happy that they 
would give me everything they had. But look you, I re- 
ceive nothing from any but those I love. If you make me a 


NATIVA DEL ROCO, 261 

present of anything, I will take it ; I will value it so much. 
Have you brought nothing from your last cruise ? ” 

“ I came to San Domingo only a few days ago, Nativa,” 
said Malcolm, flattered in spite of himself at the compli- 
mentary interest which this sweet wild flower of the forest 
evinced for him, as well as captivated by her graceful 
originality. “ I promise you on my return from my first 
cruise, to give you your choice of everything I have taken.’’ 

“ Then you have not yet fought with the Spaniards,” 
replied Nativa, opening her bewitching eyes with astonish- 
ment; “ but you are brave, are you not? Yes, I am sure of 
it,” continued she, gazing upon his face with the steady fix- 
edness of a serpentine charm. “ Ah, well, Sir Ismail, I must 
go with you on your maiden cruise.” 

“I believe, Nativa,” said Malcolm wdth a smile, “that 
women are prohibited.” 

“ Oh, yes, womeD,” replied she with another pout, “but I 
am not a woman, I am a Buccaneeress. You look incredu- 
lous. Do you think I would tell a falsehood ? You are 
not my friend if you doubt me. I appeal to Montbars.” 

“ She speaks truly,” replied Montbars in response to the 
appeal. “ She is the sole exception to the prohibition. She 
is not only permitted to go with us, but the old salts attach 
an extraordinary and superstitious idea to her presence on 
a cruise. They are firmly convinced — and so far luck or 
chance has favored the idea — ^that she is the lucky star of the 
cruise. She is eagerly sought as a shipmate, and they scru- 
pulously set apart a share of the booty for her.” 

“ Certainly, I am their lucky star,” whom the explanation 
of Montbars appeared to vex. “That is easy enough to 
understand. I always take the medal of the Holy Virgin, 
w'hich my mother left me, and to whom I say my prayers 
every night and morning. Why should they not give me 
my share of the prize money? I am sure I earn it very 
honestly.” 

“ You— pray to the Holy Virgin, lady,” exclaimed Jal- 


262 


TEE BUCCANEERS. 


mail, dropping his eyes to avoid Nativa’s searching glance. 
‘‘You cannot imagine what pleasure these words give me. 
I admit that I am very ugly, hut beauty in a man signifies 
nothing. As ugly as I am, if ever you have need of a brave 
lad and a strong arm which will obey like a big ugly strong 
dog, I and my cudgel are at your service, and I warrant that 
you will never have cause of complaint against either.” 

“Do you love your master?” said Nativa, without taking 
her eye from his face. 

“Do I love my master, lady ?” exclaimed Jalman, indig- 
nantly. “ I Avould like to hear a man ask me that question. 
I would rub him down with an oaken towel.” 

“Then I love you. What is your name ?” was the naive 
rejoiner of Nativa. 

“Jalman Vaughn, lady, on the church register, but Jal- 
man by those who love me, and ever at your service,” said 
the servant with a low bow. 

“JSTow, since I have examined you more closely, your 
rough features please me; but,” continued she after a pause, 
“why do you not call me hTativa — why Hady'^ me 

“/ presume to such familiarity, lady?” said Jalman, half 
indignant, half embarrassed. “ I have not got to that degree 
of impudence, and, thanks to my patron saint, never shall, I 
hope.” 

“Ah, I see,” said Nativa, archly, “you have been raised 
in a city.” 

“ On the contrary, lady, I was raised on the sand beach 
at cape Henry.” 

The dinner over, the guests of Grey Beard were about to 
rise from the table, when the barking of the dogs announced 
a new arrival. 

“It is only Gourd Head,” said Nativa, carelessly. 

Five minutes more, the indiviclual bearing this facetious 
nickname, presented himself Gourd Head, the steward or 
factotum, as we may call him, of Grey Beard, was a very large, 
very tall, awkward, overgrown boy of twenty years. Upon 


NATIVA BEL ROGO. 


263 


his very large round bullet head, he wore the longitudinal 
section of an enormous gourd, from which the pulp had been 
taken, and strapped under his chin by a leather strap. The 
handle of the gourd curving downwards and forwards like 
the proboscis of an elephant, formed the visor of this singu- 
lar coiffure. At a distance, the bearer looked like a Goliah 
with an elephant’s head upon his shoulders. IIon«e his 
name, “ Gourd Head.” 

Upon perceiving Montbars, he unmasked and showed two 
very formidable and irregular rows of coarse and irregular 
teeth, like the abatis of a fortification. This was his mode 
of smiling. But as soon as he saw Malcolm, a very marked 
expression of displeasure passed over his huge coarse face. 

“ Who is that man, Grey Beard ?” said he, in a counter 
tenor voice. 

“ It is my friend, Sir Ismail Malcolm,” said Nativa. “We 
already love each other very much.” 

“ In that case, I advise Sir Ismail, if he does not Avant a 
bullet m his brain, to get out from here very quick.” 

Upon hearing these words, Malcolm sprang from his seat, 
but Nativa, who fathomed his intentions, threw herself be- 
tAveen him and Gourd Head. “ Sir Ismail,” said she, per- 
fectly composed, “ do not get angry. Gourd Head is ill- 
mannefed, but not vicious. Just see hoAV I Avill tame him. 
Gourd Head,” .she continued, in an imperative tone, turning 
to the young Colossus, “ ask pardon of my neAV friend for 
your rudeness. I Avish it.” 

“Ask his pardon?” said the steward, Avith the unmis- 
takable groAvl of a bear, as if he doubted his sense of 
hearing. 

“Yes, his pardon, and that instantly !” was the imperious 
reply. 

Gourd Head mechanically raised his rifle with a flashing 
eye. 

“ Gourd Head, I swear by the Holy Virgin, that if you 
do not obey me instantly,” exclaimed Nativa, tapping the 


264 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


floor with her queenly foot, “ I will not speak to you for five 
days, and for one month will call you sirrah.” 

At this puerile menace the giant grew pale and bent like 
a reed, and appearing to understand that there was neither 
alternative or evasion, made a cringing advance to Malcolm, 
and said in a tone like the rolling of distant thunder, “ Par- 
don me ! ” 

“ I accept your apology, because rudeness in your case is 
a misfortune, rather than a fault,” said Malcolm, with a fur- 
tive smile of half pity and half scorn. 

“ ^Tativa wishes that you pardon me,” replied the giant, 
with a literal tenacity of text and purpose ; “ say that you 
pardon me ? ” 

“ Since you are so exact on the pardon,” replied Malcolm, 
“ I say \ pardon you.” 

This little social scene did not seem tc interest Grey 
Beard a particle, but Malcolm was puzzled. Nativa did not 
leave him long in perplexity. “You see, my friend,” said 
she to Malcolm, “ that Gourd Head is very docile. They 
say he is in love with me. I think that he is much uglier 
than Jalman ; but that is nothing, he fights well, and has a 
good heart. I like him.” 

“ Oh, how J thank you, Nativa,” ejaculated the giant, in 
the fullness of his joy. 

Montbars abruptly closed this conversation by saying to 
his nephew, “Your duel with Laurent will come ofi* at to- 
mprrow’s dawn. You must take some repose. We will 
retire now.” 

. “ Have you to fight with Laurent to-morrow ? ” eagerly 
inquired Hativa, turning pale. 

“Yes, my fair friend,” was the reply. 

“ Oh, I wish it could not be,” replied shie, earnestly. 
“ Laurent will kill you.” Struggling with emotion, her head 
drooped and she was silent for some moments. ‘‘ Sir Is- 
mail,” said she, gazing upon him with a tear moistened eye, 
“ pay no attention to my prattle. I am a young and thought- 


NATIVA DEL LOGO. 


265 


less girl who does not know what she says. Your honor 
requires that you fight.” This was the first time in her life 
that her woman’s pride checked the impulses of her woman’s 
heart. 

No scene in physical geography is so inspiring and at the 
same time so bewildering to the senses, as an American 
forest of the tropics at sunrise. Scarcely does the coming 
dawn of day light the horizon, when the dead silence of 
night is followed by a crescendo chant of millions of voices 
strangely fascmating and overpowering. The warbling of 
birds, the chirping of insects, the hoarse rustling crawl of 
serpents and lizards, the crashing of tigers through jungles 
in pursuit, the reechoing hoofs of fleeing deer, branches of 
trees, weighed down by dew, erecting themselves like ser- 
pents under the glow of the rising sun on all sides ; strange, 
confused, discordant, plaintive, amorous notes from unknown 
sources, played by some invisible master, all combine to 
produce the entirety of some divine orchestra. The branches 
of the gigantic banyan trees, striking downwards to the soil, 
and then taking root and forming new trunks, presented to 
to the bewildered stranger a prodigious multiplicity of forms 
of picturesque and fantastic grandeur. Their large and thick 
leaves, dotted with dew drops innumerable, like the stars 
of the firmament sparkling in the rays of the rising sun, 
formed a glittering arch of fairy masonry which surpassed 
in magnificence the most vivid descriptions of oriental poets. 

Such was the scene which greeted the eyes of Malcolm 
vv'hen he awoke next morning under the roof of Grey Beard. 
Having arisen at four o’clock in the morning, Malcolm 
awaited, sad and pensive, the hour of combat. His heart 
Dulsated calmly and serenely, but his memory was active 
and his spirit agitated. He thought of his childhood and 
youth amid the rolling sands and roaring surf of cape Henry 
— the startling events of the last two months — his passion 
for Isabel Sandoval. 

Montbars, already dressed, was sleeping s'\\'eetly and 


266 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


soundly upon his pallet. The miisings of Malcolm were 
interrupted by a slight knock at his chamber door, and then 
entered Nativa carrying a basket of fruits and flowers. 

“ My friend,” said she, “ I have been dreaming of you all 
night. I did not get one wink of sleep. Why are men so 
perverse that they must be always doing some wicked thing 
to one another ? How much better it would be to love each 
other and live happy together. I cannot express what I feel. 
Kever since I can remember, have I been so much troubled 
in spirit as since yesterday. Have you dreamed of me ? 
Have you been impatiently waiting for day to see me again ? 
Do you fear Laurent ? Do you hope to be victorious in 
this duel ? ” 

While this fair child of nature was piling question upon 
question, Malcolm gazed upon her with attentive interest. 
He felt himself succumbing to the power of the fascinating 
sympathy which this daughter of the Buccaneer so naively 
evinced for him. 

“Yes, Nativa,” said he, taking her hand, “you are the 
sweet angel that visited me in my dreams as the vision of a 
dear sister whom I should seek in heaven, who appears to 
me now on earth. I am wrong to indulge the feeling you 
inspire, or too fondly believe that the few brief hours we 
have known each other could inspire a durable aflection such 
as yours. Your sympathy is so intoxicating to my soul, 
that reason is powerless. But you do not understand me,” 
he added, pausing and smiling. 

Oh, speak on — speak ever thus !” she exclaimed, vehe- 
mently. “Your voice thrills me like sweet music which I 
hear in my dreams. It seems to me that we have known 
each other for years, and that we have been raised together. 
It is true I am very ignorant — many words you utter are 
puzzles to me — strange as it may appear. I have not lost a 
syllable, and I understand you perfectly.” And then, by 
an instinctive gesture of coquetry untaught, unlearnt, she 
brushed back from her brow upon her shoulders, her cloud 


NATIVA BEL LOCO. 


267 


of glossy black hair, as she added, “ I have just discovered 
how it happens^ — that knowing you only since yesterday — it 
appears to rae that we have never been separated.” 

“ Let me share that discovery,” said Malcolm. 

“No — you will laugh at me,” said Nativa, with a half 
smile and half pout, 

“ Am I not your adopted brother ? ” said Malcolm, care- 
lessly smoothing back some stray tresses from her brow. 

“You are right. Well, then. Sir Ismail,” she continued, 
“ every time my sleep was broken, it was by your voice ring- 
ing in my ears, which I was dreaming of Is not that very 
curious and extraordinary ? Now I can explain how it was 
that yesterday, when I heard your voice for the first time, I 
asked you to be my friend. I was then your affinity, as the 
Obi witches call it.” 

At this naive avowal — of the true intent and meaning of 
which this wild untutored beauty was ignorant — Malcolm 
unavoidably shuddered, but it was transient. He was about 
to reply when Montbars estopped him by saying, “ Sir Ismail 
it is now half-past four — it is time to leave.” 

Whether the Buccaneer chief feared any incipient weak- 
ness in his nephew, or whether, accustomed as he was to 
scenes of violence and the lotteries of battle, he was uncon- 
cerned about the issue of the pending duel, he never spoke 
with more coolness and self-possession. Malcolm, in spite 
of himself, in comparing the cool and somewhat imperious 
tone of his uncle — with the tearful sympathy of Nativa, 
yearned to the latter. 

“ My friend,” exclaimed she, in a faltering and quavering 
tone, “ I do not know what is the matter with me to-day. 
It may be that I over-fatigued myself in running away from 
the Spanish lancers ; but certain I am broken down now. 
It seems to me I shall hardly have strength enough to go 
with you to-day.” 

“How is that — go with me ! ” exclaimed Malcolm. 

“ Do you think that I could wait patiently here the news 


268 


THE BUGGANEEBS. 


of your triumph ? Oh, no, Sir Ismail,” said she, shaking hei 
queenly head. “ I will witness your duel with that Laurent. 
You will kill him — will you not swear to me you will kill 
him ? If you are killed there is no more happiness for me 
on earth. I shall ever see you pale and bleeding. That is 
too horrible. Besides,” added she, after a pause, “who 
knows but that I may prevent this duel ? The Beau Lau* 
rent, so haughty and scornful to all the rest of the world, 
pretends that he loves me. But I must tell you I have 
always hated him; but if your safety is concerned, I ” 

“My kind Nativa,” said Malcolm, interrupting her in a 
tone of sweet reproach, “ is it customary at San Domingo 
for ladies to thrust themselves between men who have an 
affair of honor to settle between them and themselves only ? 
In Scotland, the land of my ancestors, in Virginia, the land 
of my childhood, and in France, the land of my uncle’s 
adoption, the women mourn the dead, laud the victors and 
despise the cowards. If you attempt to prevent this duel 
your efforts will not only be useless, but they will give me’ 
l^ain and mortification.” 

“ Yes, Sir Ismail, you are right. You must fight. I do 
not know what ails me to-day ; I must be crazy,” said she, 
with a deep blush and drooping head. 

“ As to your wish to witness this duel,” continued Mal- 
colm, “ that is equally impracticable and must be renounced. 
Your presence would embarrass me and give every advan- 
tage to my adversary.” 

“It is too true. Sir Ismail; I will obey you,” said ]N'ativa, 
in a voice scarcely audible. 

The entrance of Grey Beard, carrying two rifles, his own 
and that of Montbars, put a stop to any further conversa- 
tion. 

“ Come, Malcolm,” said Montbars, “ it is five o’clock, it 
is time to go.” 

“ I am ready, let us go,” said Malcolm, leading the way. He 
had gone some paces when Nativa ran to and stopped him. 


'NATIVA BEL ROCO. 


269 


“ Remember,” said she, in a quavering whisper, “ that if 
you die, there is no more happiness for me on earth. Be on 
your guard against that Laurent. He is full of treacherous 
wiles and tricks. Show him no mercy or quarter.” 

The three men had reached the lawn gate, when a negro 
slave, reeking with perspiration, met them. “ Massa Mont- 
bars,” said the negro, “ here is a bundle Massa Laurent sent 
you. I have been waiting for you an hour at the foot of 
Mount Pithon. Hot seeing you coming, I thought I could 
find you here.” 

The negroes not having reached their present degree of 
civilization, had in the seventeenth century a singular idea 
about letters. They thought that a piece of paper was of 
no account, so that when any one gave them a letter to carry, 
they would not obey the order. They considered it a prac- 
tical joke or sharp trick. To obviate this, letter writers 
used a means as easy to execute as simple to invent. They 
put the letter between two stones, and then wrapping the 
whole like a bundle, gave it to the slave, who, convinced 
from’ the weight of the object committed to his care, fulfilled 
his mission with scrupulous exactness. 

Beau Laurent had adopted this plan, but instead of stones 
he had put the letter between two thick bars of silver. 

“ Montbars,” wrote he, “ the blow which I received on my 
head the day before yesterday prevents me froni keeping 
my appointment to-day. To-morrow at five o’clock in the 
morning, without fail, let my condition be what it may, you 
will find me at the rendezvous. Pray Nativa to accept the 
ingots which accompany this letter. To-morrow-morning — 
sharp five.” 

Montbars read this letter aloud. Hativa uttered a cry of 
joy, and addressing herself to Malcolm, said, “ My friend, 
I regard this delay as an auspicious omen. This is the first 
time that Laurent has failed to keep an appointment for a 
duel. But as to the silver he has sent me,” continued she, 
with an expression of disgust, “I will not have it. It makes 
me sick.” 


270 


THE B VGGANEERS. 


The delay which his adversary demanded of, or rather 
imposed on him, chagrined Malcolm, however brave he 
might be ; the imexpected delay of twenty-four hours, was 
painful to one who was so anxious to bring the matter to a 
finality. 

“Now,'’ said Nativa, joyful and elated, “we will spend 
the day hunting in the forest.” 

Malcolm joyfully welcomed the proposition, which if it 
did no more, would at least break the gloomy train of his 
thoughts. Fascinated as he was by a character so original 
and unexceptionable, the idea of a long tete-a-tete with the 
charming daughter of Grey Beard would be as soothing to 
his spirits as it was mollifying to the asperities of his posi- 
tion. He felt himself drawn to her by a sentiment novel 
and incomprehensible. 

“Nothing would please me more,” said he, eagerly, “ than 
to spend the day roaming over your beautiful forest, but I 
fear your father would disapprove of it.” 

“My father disapprove of it — and why?” said Nativa, 
with surprise. 

“ Because — because — ” said Malcolm, hesitating and stam- 
mering, “ he might not think that it was within the rules of 
propriety.” 

“ What does all that mean ? I do not understand it,” 
said Nativa, more and more astonished. 

“ Would your father, who never saw me until yesterday, 
permit his daughter to ramble through the forest alone with 
a stranger ? ” said Malcolm, seeing that he must come to the 
point at once. 

“Your reply adds nothing to my stock of information,” 
replied Nativa, pettishly, with an impatient toss of her head. 
“Do you mean to say that my father might fear that 
you would behave ill to me ? He knows too well that the 
nephew of Montbars is incapable of a base act. And why 
should you be ill to one who loves you ? Get along. Take 
a rifle and come along with me.” 


'NATIVA DEL MOGO. 


271 


.^Tativa, seeing that Malcolm still hesitated, ran to Grey 
Beard and throwing her arms around his neck, said. 
Father, will you lend your rifle to Sir Ismail ? He is going 
to hunt with me.’’ 

“ Do you go alone ? ” asked Grey Beard. 

“ Certainly, father ; do I not know all the paths through 
tte woods as well as* you do?” responded Nativa, with a 
poutish expression of ofi*ended pride. 

‘^Yes^ Nativa,” replied Grey Beard, gravely, “but our 
guest is not up to all the Spanish tricks as you are. If you 
should be ambuscaded by the lancers, I fear that he could 
hardly rescue you and himself, to<5, from their hands. Why 
not take Gourd Head with you ? ” 

“ Because,” said Nativa, archly, “ he would bore us. He 
is jealous of every one I love, that Gourd Head is.” 

“ If he annoys you, that alters the case,” said her father, 
smiling, “ but why is he jealous ? ” 

“Why, he is in love with me, father,” said Nativa, with a 
gleeful roar of laughter, and then turning to Gourd Head 
continued, “Is it not so — are you not in love with me, 
Gourd Head?” 

“ To be sure I am,” was the gruff reply of the phleg- 
matic steward. 

Nativa took her father’s rifle, a calabash of powder, a sack 
of bullets, and put them all into the hands of Malcolm and 
then got her own. 

“ Since you will not have Gourd Head,” said her father, 
“ at least take the dogs with you.” 

Malcolm could not conceal his emotions of surprise. The 
compliance, but more particularly, the indifference, which 
Grey Beard evinced in contravention of all those conven- 
tional proprieties of social life completely upset his prude 
notions of etiquette, which he had acquired in his occasional 
visits to Jamestown and Saint Mary’s. 


272 


TEE BUCCANEERS. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

GOURD HEAD. 

Xativa, before setting out for the hunt, invited Malcolm 
into the house and served up a slight collation of jerked 
beef and preserved fruit. This repast over, these young 
spirits took up their line of march for the forest jungles, 
where they expected to find the coverts of their game. 

For some moments Xativa walked by the side of her 
companion in silence. 

“ Holy Virgin ! ” exclaimed she at length, like a clap of 
thunder in a clear sky, “ how happy I am ! If it were not 
for your duel with that Laurent to-morrow, this would be 
the brightest morning of my life.’’ 

“ Why are you so happy, my sister ? ” said Malcolm. 

“ Because you are with me, Sir Ismail,” said she, with the 
pure and joyful smile of an innocent child reveling in the 
sunbeams of its unalloyed happiness. 

At these words, so explicit, yet so unaffected, Malcolm 
felt for the moment a painful embarrassment, which it was 
necessary to conceal from his fair companion. 

“ Xativa,” said he, after a pause, “ have you always lived 
at Roger grove — have you never lived in the city ? ” 

“Never, Sir Ismail,” was the prompt reply. “I v/as a 
short time at Port Paix and Leogane, with father Grey 
Beard. But cities are intolerable to me; the air they 
breathe suffocates me , their beautiful flowers are scentless ; 
their men speak to me in a manner that rouses my indigna- 
tion, though I do not understand a word they say. I am 
happy only in my native forest. It io my cradle ; I hope it 
to be my grave.” 

“You have no mother?” said Malcolm, by way of sug- 
gestion. 


GOURD HEAD. 


273 


“ I never knew my mother,” said Nativa, in a sadder tone 
than usual. “ I was not two hours old when she died. I 
was born in the harbor of Tortuga. Father Grey Beard 
took me from the arms of my dying mother and" brought 
me here — and here I am.” 

“ Why did Grey Beard take yon ? ” said Malcolm, whose 
intense curiosity for the moment threw him off his guard. 

“ That I cannot tell — because I don’t know,” said Nativa, 
without noticing the eagerness of her companion ; “ but I 
heard Gourd Head say one day that father Grey Beard 
sent his own grand- daughter across the seas tQ be educated 
in the church of England faith, though he himself is a 
Catholic. Once I asked father Grey Beard about it ; but 
he shook his head and wiped his eyes. Since then I have 
never talked about it.” 

“When you go upon sea voyages and cruises,” said Mal- 
colm, seeing the necessity of diverting her train of ideas as 
quickly as possible, “are you happy ?” 

Certainly I am happy,” said she, with an arch and radi- 
ant smile like a sunbeam breaking through a cloud. “ Am 
I not their lucky star? Do I not bring happiness to 
others ? ” ' 

“ That is not what I should have asked,” replied Malcolm ; 
“ I mean, do you love the dangers of the mighty deep, the 
grand and sublime sight old ocean presents ; and then are 
you happy with your shipmates ? ” 

“ The ocean pleases me at times, but not always like this 
glorious old forest which has ever shaded my cradle, and as 
I hope will drop their leaves upon my grave. As to the 
Buccaneers, they treat me as their daughter. I love them 
very much — only — only — ” 

“Finish your sentence,” said Malcolm, seeing Kativa 
falter and hesitate to utter the words upon her lips. 

“Only,” continued Nativa, “there are times when, like 
the sea, they frighten me.” 

“ When and what are these occasions ? ” said Malcolm. 


274 


THE B UGGANEERS, 


“When they have been drinking,” continued bTativa, 
“and then they glare at me with glittering, wolfish eyes, so 
that it makes me shudder. One would think they saw in 
me an enemy. IN’ever will I go on a cruise again. Sir Ismail, 
unless it be with you. But what noise is that ? I hear the 
limbs of trees breaking as if somebody, or some wild ani- 
mal, were coming towards us through the jungle. Yet the 
dogs are all quiet.” 

I^'ativa cast her searching eye around as if to fathom the 
impervious jungle of chaparral through which the road was 
leading. Presently she stamped her foot, with a scowl on 
her brow saying, “ It is Gourd Head following us. W ait 
here a moment ; I will return directly.” 

Agile as a young deer, Hativa sprang forward and disap- 
peared behind a clump of vine-covered trees. “ Did I not 
forbid you following us ? ” said she, accosting Gourd Head. 
“ Answer me. Why are you here ? ” 

The Goliah, caught in the act of eavesdropping, appeared 
ill at ease ; with downcast eyes and head, he stood before the 
young beauty stupid, silent and motionless like a rock. 

“Do you not hear me ? ” reiterated Hativa, trembling with 
anger. “ Why, I say, have you followed us ? If you do 
not answer me immediately — I tell you I am going to detest 
you.” 

“ I followed you Hativa,” said the giant, stammering and 
faltering between his words, “ I followed you because I am 
jealous.” 

“ Why are you jealous ? ” 

“ I am jealous because — because you have taken Sir Ismail 
Malcolm for a lover,” said Gourd Head bearing the weight 
of his huge body first on one leg and then on the other. 

“To be sure he is my lover,” exclaimed Hativa. “Have 
I ever concealed it from you ? Have I not a right to take 
as lovers all who please me ? Are you not my lover also, 
you stupid lout ? What right have you to complain ? ” 

“ You say I am your lover — I ? ” said the steward of Grey 


GOURD HEAD. 


275 


Beard, his dull eye brightening with joy, which proved that 
he attached a more significant value to the little word, than 
the object of his idolatry, uttered wii-h such innocent non- 
chalauce. 

“ Well, really, you are a fool,” replied IsTativa. “How 
could you wish to be more loverlike than we are ? Do we 
not call each other by our familiar names ? Do we not hunt 
together? Am I not happy when I see you so? What 
more do you want ? ” 

“It is true, Hativa,” replied her ungainly knight, “you 
are always very kind and. good ; but as to Sir Ismail Mal- 
colm, if he escapes Laurent he will not escape me.” 

“ Do you think to measure swords with him — Sir Ismail 
Malcolm?” said Hativa, with a sarcastic curl of her lip. 

“ At least I hope to put a bullet in him ; and that is surer 
work than a game at cross swords,” was the sullen reply. 

“ If you dare that I will hate you with all my heart, soul 
and body,” shrieked Nativa, quivering with rage. 

“Well, then, in that case I will kill you,” roared the 
giant, with an explosion of rage. 

Hativa shrugged her . shoulders with an air of pitying 
scorn. “ Simpleton,” said she, quietly, “ what will you do 
without me — you who see me every day ? ” 

“That is true, Hativa,” said Gourd Head with all the 
meekness of a sheep. “ I could not live without you. My 
God, what must I do ? ” 

“Do what I tell you — come follow me,” was the imperi- 
ous reply. 

The burly steward of her father, accustomed to bend to 
the caprices of the daughter, asked no explanation, but 
marched moodily along behind her like a sullen mastifi*, un- 
willing to obey but not daring to disobey, until they 
regained the spot where she had left Malcolm. 

“ Sir Ismail,” said she, “ I have brought Gourd Head to you. 
He desires to assure you with his own lips that he loves you. 
Gourd Head, tell Sir Ismail that you love him.” 


276 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


Gourd Head hesitated but, upon seeing the brow of Na- 
tiva darken with a frown, gatherhig courage from despair, 
he advanced to Sir Ismail and said or rather roared, “ Sir Is- 
mail, I love you.” 

“Very well, Gourd Head,” said Nativa, with a patroniz- 
ing smile, “ now give me your hand, and leave us.” 

Gourd Head obeyed, it must be confessed, with very ill 
grace and reluctant steps, and Malcolm, without caring to 
analyze his feelings on the subject, saw him depart with 
pleasure. 

The hours which followed were for these two beings 
moments of intoxicating pleasure. Nativa, like the fabled 
nymph of the forest, worshipped with a holy and guileless 
passion in her sylvan temple as she roamed like a child 
through its silent and dreamy isles; and Malcolm, thus 
brought in contact with the magnificent and overpowering 
beauty of a tropical forest, felt that thrill of joy which none 
but lovers of the grand, beautiful and sublime in nature can 
feel. 

Whenever [NTativa, partially concealed by the parasitic 
undergrowth of the forest, appeared to him a shadowy and 
poetic vision, he thought of Isabel Sandoval ; but whenever 
she drew near him he did not regret the dissipation of the 
sweet delusion, for he really felt for the Buccaneeress, 
though he scarcely knew it, the affection of a brother for a 
sister. He was merely yielding to that magic power which 
a pure and beautiful woman wields over all who approach 
her. There were moments when under this magnetic spell 
he confounded Isabel and Nativa in one and the same vision. 

About mid-day the foliage of the forest began to droop 
under the intense heat of the tropical sun at his meridian. 
It was the usual hour of what the natives called “ siesta.” 

“Let us take our siesta,” said Nativa. 

Malcolm assenting, Nativa, seating herself upon the turf 
and resting her head against the trunk of a moss-covered 
tree, soon slept as sweetly and as soundly as an infant. The 


GOURD HEAD. 277 

dogs, coiling themselves at her feet, seemed to watch over 
this improvised cradle of innocence. 

Malcolm, standing aloof with arms folded, gazed with 
admiration upon this beautiful tableau of Arcadian simplicity 
and poetic grace. With the exception of Isabel Sandoval, 
never had he gazed upon so perfect a mask of mortality. 
The beauty of the fair Castilian was as the spell of an en- 
chantress — that of the Buccaneeress was the holy power of 
an angel. 

The spot chosen by ISTativa for her siesta was about three 
leagues from her father’s house, near the borders of the 
great savannah which separated Spanish from French San 
Domingo, and although Malc<flm, according to the exigencies 
and caprices of the chase, had gone over twice that distance 
and felt much fatigued, he could not follow her example 
of closing his eyes in sleep. In spite of his physical weak- 
ness a sleep defying agitation of spirit kept him in a state 
of oppressive wakefulness. 

Seated at the foot of a huge guava tree, with his elbows on 
his knees and his head upon the palms of his hands, he gave 
loose reins to the reveries of a wild imagination which sur- 
rounding circumstances and suggestive memories evoked. 
The pungent perfumes with which the fores!: was impreg- 
nated and which in the new world are of great power, pro- 
duced an effect more poetical than, but somewhat analogous 
to, good wine. It dulled the senses and stimulated the 
brain. Malcolm was sinking into a state of semi-oblivion 
when a furious clamor of many voices burst upon him and 
called him to life. Seizing his rifle he bounded to his feet 
and ran to Nativa who, awakened by the same cause, was 
on her feet. 

“ Have you heard ? ” said Malcolm. 

“Yes,” replied Nativa. “They are the Spanish lancers, 
who no doubt have just surprised some straggling Bucca- 
neer. Let us fly to his assistance.” 

“God is my witness, ISTativa,” said Malcolm, “if I were 


278 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


alone I should not hesitate an instant, but with you I fear. 
They say that the Spaniards always go in a body.” 

“ That is true ; but what matters it, Sir Ismail ? It will 
be horrible to leave one of our braves to be massacred with- 
out an effort at rescue.' Holy Virgin protect me. Forward 
— forward ! ” 

With these words, ISTativa, her face pale, her eyes spark- 
ling with enthusiasm, called her dogs and bounded forward 
in the direction of the cries. Malcolm followed her. 
Scarcely had they gone a hundred paces ere the report of a 
rifle was heard. 

“ Hurrah ! ” shouted Hativa, as if the person for whom the 
cheer was intended could hear it. “ Hurrah, we are coming.” 

Five minutes more they reached the border of the savan- 
nah, and then a sight strange and incomprehensible at first 
met their eyes. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

THE LANCERS. 

One entire company of Spanish lancers had surrounded a 
Buccaneer who, with his pistol in his hand, stood at bay ancl, 
with a haughty and scoffing air of defiance, seemed to pro- 
voke and defy them to the attack. The irresolute lancers, 
after closing around him in a circle of a radius of twenty 
yards, stood simply presenting the points of their lances 
without daring to close on him singly or en masse. 

“Holy Virgin!” exclaimed Xativa, with exultation, “it is 
Laurent. They are about to kill him. Sir Ismail, you have 
nothing more to fear ; your mortal foe will soon be no more.” 

These words proved that the safety of Malcolm was the 
one idea of Xativa — she who, but a few seconds before, with 
a courage and devotion unknown to her sex, was flying with 


THE LANCERS. 279 

all the gallant ardor of a Knight Templar to the rescue of 
the unknown unfortunate victim. 

“Kativa,” said Malcolm, “if I abandon that man, I shall 
forever be dishonored in my own eyes. I admit that the 
attempt is a foolhardy one — but, God protect me, I Avill do 
my duty.” 

Malcolm leveled his rifle and fired. 

A lancer fell dead from his horse. 

Then emerging from the corner of the forest, Malcolm 
advanced upon the Spaniards, who, surprised and demoral- 
ized by the fall of their comrade, began to break their block- 
ading circle. 

Malcolm then understood the system of defence the 
Buccaneer had adopted. 

Laurent had simply cocked his pistol and inserted the 
muzzle into the mouth of his powder gourd and held it 
before him. If any of the lancers had come in contact with 
him he would have exploded this very unique and im- 
promptu mine. If the lancers had charged upon him en 
masse Laurent must necessarily have been crushed, but many 
of the lancers would have paid the forfeit of their lives. 

Ko one of them was devoted enough to play the Curtius 
for the benefit of the others. 

This very natural and egotistical instinct of self-preserva- 
tion in his adversaries was the salvation of the Buccaneer. 

As soon as the lancers saw the advance of Malcolm a 
dozen of them broke the blockade of Laurent, and galloped 
towards him at a charge lance. 

The crisis was solemn and the position critical. Malcolm 
instinctively felt that if he stopped to reload his rifle he was 
lost. He continued to advance. The Spanish lancers were 
already within a few yards of his breast, when, at the sharp 
crack of a rifle in the edge of the forest, one of the mounted 
squad threw up his arms and fell dead from his horse. The 
others halted abruptly. 

At this timely inter vention of succor Malcolm was in- 


280 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


spired with a happy idea. Turning to the forest whence 
came the shot, he cried with all the power of his lungs, 
“ Forward ! my friends ; hurry up — the rascals will make 
their escape.” 

At these w'ords a dozen large and furious dogs, the usual 
advanced pickets of the Buccaneers, rushed from the cover 
of the forest, ferociously yelping, into the savannah. The 
presence of the terrible animals confirming the 'words of 
Malcolm ; and the Spaniards, in the belief that they them- 
selves had fallen into an ambuscade of the brigands, as they 
termed the Buccaneers, faced about and precipitately fled 
from the field like a flock of doves at the sight of a hawk. 

‘‘Thanks, my brave Nativa!” exclaimed Malcolm, with 
grateful enthusiasm ; “ but for you I should have been lost. 
You have saved me from a frightful death.” 

As to Laurent, the rout of the Spaniards brought to him 
neither smile on his face or joy ‘in his heart. His cold, 
scornful, sang-froid^ haughty, repulsive attitude was un- 
changed. With his wonted mechanical complacency, he 
reslung his powder gourd, put his pistol in his belt, and ad- 
vancing to Malcolm, said, “ My friend, whoever you are, I 
thank you. If ever you have need of Laurent — oh, bah ! it 
is you, is it ” — recognizing Malcolm in the person of his 
preserver — “ the man I have to fight with to-morrow ? 
W ell, truly you have thrown away a fine chance. Why the 
devil did you not take yourself off Avhen you found me in 
such a scrape ? You have committed one of the most stupid 
blunders I ever heard of. You surely could not have been 
aware of the folly of rescuing your deadly foe from the 
Spaniards. However, I must say that you behaved very 
gallantly.” 

“ In truth, sir,” replied Malcolm, not wishing to lay the 
gratitude of his enemy under contribution, the time 
I came to your assistance I ignored your existence as a per- 
sonal enemy T 

Whether Laurent understood the emphatic point of this 


THE LANGEE8. 281 

remark or not, he made no reply. His attention was di- 
rected to a third person, who was approaching. 

Soon Nativa came, with her train of dogs. Her appear- 
ance seemed to give Laarent unfeigned pleasure. He smiled 
upon her with an expression of kindness and affability, much 
at variance with his usual haughty and repulsive deport- 
ment. 

“ Oh, Sir Ismail, how I glorify God that you came un- 
scathed out of that unequal struggle,” said she to Malcolm, 
without appearing to notice the presence of Laurent. “ I 
knew that you were brave. Now I love you more than 
ever, if that were possible.” 

“ It is I, Nativa,” said Malcolm, “ that should yield the 
laurel to you. But for you I should have been lost.” 

Laurent — he who had just looked death out of countenance 
with all the cool impassibility of an iceberg — could not con- 
ceal an emotion of bitter*chagrin upon seeing the affection- 
ate relations between Malcolm and Nativa. “What, Na- 
tiva,” said he, in a tone of sadness, “ have you no word of 
welcome for me ? ” 

“You well know, Laurent,” said Nativa, tartly, “that I 
hate you.” 

“ You are wrong, my dear child,” said he, without taking 
offence at her words, “ I who am so devoted ” 

“ You, so devoted ! ” replied Nativa, with a mocking ges- 
ture, curling lip and scornful eye ; “ you are a bad man, 
whom the whole world execrates. If Sir Ismail had taken 
my advice — a moment ago — men would have feared you no 
longer.” 

“ How is that ? ” replied Laurent. “ If he had taken 
your advice! Was he not ignorant of whom he was rescu- 
ing?” 

“ He — ignorant ? Why no,” replied Nativa, with cruel 
candor. “ He recognized you before he fired. It would 
not have been a crime or dereliction in him to have let you 
be massacred by the Spaniards.” 


282 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


Laurent bit his lips for a moment, and then turning to 
Malcolm, said, “ Sir Ismail, my honor compels me to say. 
that your conduct has been as noble as it has been brave ; 
but I hope that you will not use it as a plea to abate the 
claim of satisfaction I have on you.” 

“Your hope^ sir, is an additional insult,” replied Malcolm; 
“ and since you have introduced a subject upon which you 
should have been silent, at least for a day, permit me to say 
that in postponing until to-morrow an affair which could 
have taken place to-day, under a pretext of physical disa- 
bility, you have displayed an equivocation which adds noth- 
ing to your character.” 

“ Sir,” replied Laurent, with calm politeness, “ I esteem 
you too highly not to exculpate myself of that charge. 
Yesterday, when I wrote to Montbars, I was suffering very 
much; but before night I became entirely relieved. I got up 
at midnight and set out for Roger grove — to be there in time: 
From want of rest I dozed in my saddle. My horse, thus 
left to himself, took the wrong road and carried me into the 
savannah. I was startled out of my somnambulic sleep by 
the clattering of hoofs behind me. I barely had time to 
leap from the horse so as to give the animal a chance and 
put myself into the posture of defence, as you found me. 
Do you insist upon settling our quarrel now ? If so, I am 
at your service ; only I think it would be ungallant and cruel 
to force Rativa to witness the combat, because it would dis- 
tress her in the first place, and secondly, might deprive her 
of a protector she would need, as the Spaniards are roving 
about here.” 

“ Your explanations are very satisfactory, sir,” said Mal- 
colm ; “ your reasons very correct, and I accept them as 
such.” 

“ Then,” said Laurent, “ let our quarrel sleep until to-mor- 
row morning. During the truce we will treat each other as 
gentlemen.” 

“ Certainly, sir,” said Malcolm. “Any allusion to our an- 


THE LANCERS. 


283 


tecedents will be disagreeable to ^NTativa, and we will ignore 
them altogether to-day. Tell me, I pray you, how did you 
manage to keep the lancers from killing you ? ” 

“You know as well as I do,” replied Laurent. 

“ I comprehend your happy invention of the gourd mine,” 
replied Malcolm, “ but what puzzles me is that when the 
lancers could not strike you with their lances, they did not 
riddle you with bullets.” 

“That is easy to explain,” said Laurent, with a smile. 

The lancers do not carry firearms.” 

“Not carry firearms ! ” exclaimed Malcolm. “ Why so ? ” 

“For reasons that I will explain,” said Laurent. “The 
terror in which we are held by the Spaniards is such that 
they will not attack us unless they are ten to one — that is, 
only when they cannot well avoid it. In the first years of 
the war the Spanish soldiers, armed as infantry, were in the 
habit of firing into every tree and every bush they found in 
their way under the pretext that a Buccaneer might be lurk 
ing therein. In this manner they made their whereabouts 
known to us by the reports of their muskets and got clear 
of fighting unless we forced them to it. To put an end to 
this humbuggery and poltroonery, the Spanish government 
employed mounted men armed with lances only.” 

While Laurent was speaking, Nativa eyed him in undis- 
guised astonishment. “ Do you know, Laurent,” said she, 
“that I have never seen you talk so civilly and so long to 
any person before ? Heretofore you have never opened your 
mouth but to spit out short, sharp and bitter words. Are 
you really reforming ? ” 

“ My fair friend,” said Laurent, “ this grave charge com- 
ing from you is cruel. I never addressed one word to you 
that could possibly give you pain.” 

“Not to me, it is true, but to all others,” said Nativa. 

“ If I have been always kind and good to you, Nativa, it is 
because you are the only pure and uncorrupted woman I 
have ever met with,” said Laurent. “ Believe me, dear child, 


284 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


the treachery of the human heart is more to be dreaded than 
the fang of the serpent. When I was young I loved the 
whole human race, and I fancied every body loved me. 
I have paid dearly for my infatuation. I have been so 
cruelly deceived that I know no monstrosity so terrible as 
the -naked human heart. If I am gracious and affable to 
Sir Ismail it is because I find him like yourself — better than 
others. Do you understand me now ?’’ 

“Yes; I understand that Sir Ismail is worthy of being 
loved,” said Nativa eagerly. “Those last words you have 
uttered reconciles me a little to you. I do not hate you 
quite so much as before.” 

“ Then you still hate me ? ” said Laurent, in a tone more of 
sorrow than anger, which surprised Malcolm. 

“ Indeed I do,” said bTativa ; “ but that need not prevent 
you from accepting the hospitalities of my father’s house. 
Now for home.” 

The three then set forward for Roger grove, the dogs joy- 
fully deploying as flankers and skirmishers with all their 
canine glee. The conduct and deportment of Laurent while 
in the company of Malcolm and N ativa was of such genuine 
and unaffected politeness that it was self-evident he had 
been born and raised in the best society. 

It was nightfall when they reached Grey Beard’s house. 
This veteran exhibited no emotion or surprise at the sight 
of Laurent with Malcolm and Nativa. To the recital of 
their dangers and adventures he was cold and impassive. 
But his face betrayed a singular anxiety when Laurent said 
to him, “Father Grey Beard, yesterday I received news 
from England.” 

“ Ah,” gasped Grey Beard, tremulously, “what about my 
law suit ? ” 

“Not yet decided,” said Laurent. “ Your lawyer, as you 
will see by his letter here, wants more money before the 
trial can go on.” 

“ Let him have every cent he requires,” exclaimed Grey 


THE LANCERS, 


285 


Beard, fiercely. “ If he wants one hundred thousand pounds 
sterling, he has but to say it. I will pillage every Spanish 
city in South America to get it.” 

“I have news for you, too, Montbars,” said Laurent, turn- 
ing to that personage with that compressed lip, inimitable 
shrug, and sinister eye so peculiar to him ; “ king James II. 
is in Dublin, and your grand diplomatic career will soon 
begin, I presume.” Then glancing at Malcolm, he continued, 
“ As Caesar must succeed Ca3sar, your nephew will learn 
his A, B, C’s in that noble art on a smaller theatre at Saint 
Mary’s in America, without undergoing the formal baptism 
of fire and blood hitherto considered so indispensable in our 
order.” 

“ It is my wish that my nephew does undergo the baptism 
of fire and blood,” replied Montbars, coloring under the 
blighting and sarcastic sneer. 

Malcolm, to arrest what might have been an unseemly and 
untimely quarrel, drew his uncle away. 

“ What is the meaning of that word ^ lawsuit ’ in the 
mouth of a Buccaneer — a man beyond the pale of law ? ” said 
he to his uncle, after they had walked some paces from the 
rest of the party in front of Grey Beard’s house. 

“It is one of the wayward eccentricities of the human 
heart, one of the puzzles of human error,” said Montbars, 
“ that Grey Beard, whom you see so perfectly indifferent to , 
all that men value, who leaves his adopted daughter he so 
tenderly loves in ignorance of his name and rank, who per- 
mits her to expose herself to all the dangers of the sea, who 
abandons her, I may say, to the brutal passions of his asso- 
dates, from which a miracle alone saves her, that man, who 
would not step an inch out of his way to realize a fortune, 
squanders thousands upon thousands — and his life — to gain 
a suit, which has been thirty years in the chancery court 
of England. Could you guess what the case is? No, 
never. It is simply to prove that he is lineally descended 
from the old dukes of Cornwall, and that he has a right to 


286 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


wear the arms of that house — a right without property, as 
the duchy has long since been an appendage to the princi- 
jjality of Wales. He thinks it may have some political sig- 
nificance under certain circumstances. It was his daughter 
that James, duke of Monmouth, privately married. It is his 
grand-daughter that is at Saint Mary’s. She may be one of 
the questions in your diplomacy — of all which you will know 
more in time, when instructions from Dublin are received.’’ 

“All that is nothing to Nativa,” said Malcolm, half mus- 
ing, half soliloquizing — more pleased than surprised, he knew 
not why. 

“To Hativa, nothing — certainly,” said Montbars, with a 
petulance which proved that he was vexed at the introduc- 
tion of her name. “Now,” continued he after a pause, “let 
us retire. AVe must rise early to-morrow to work.” 

The next day at dawn four men — two of them carrying 
rifles on their shoulders — left the house of Grey Beard for 
the foot of Mount Pithon. 


CHAPTEH XXXL 

AT THE FOOT OF MOUNT PITHON. 

During the first years of the occupation of the island of 
San Domingo by the French colonists, duels among the 
Buccaneers were conducted without witnesses. The parties 
were only required to make known to their friends the time 
and place of meeting. This formality complied with, the 
two combatants set out together with their arms and amu- 
nition and fought at long or short range as best pleased 
them, until one of the two fell, which was the case nine 
times out of ten. Then a Buccaneer surgeon went to the 
spot and examined the dead body. If the man was found to 
have been shot in the back or side, the death was pronounced 


AT MOUNT PITHON 


2S7 


to be foul play, and tlie assassin was bound and hung by the 
neck to the most convenient tree. But so many Buccaneers 
condemned and executed in this manner, having with their 
last breath protested their innocence, the first French gov- 
ernor sent out by Louis XIV., issued an order that no duels 
should take place without witnesses. 

These witnesses were simply passive spectators. They 
had nothing to do with the merits of the quarrel, or ar- 
rangements of the duel. All that was left to the combatants 
themselves. l\Ialcolm learnt all these things from Montbars 
as they went along, and by a species of gallantry peculiar 
to himself, determined to give the initiative to Laurent. 

‘‘ Sir,” said he to his adversary, “ you are more conver- 
sant with these things than I am. I yield to your superior 
knowledge and wiU agree to anything you say.” 

.Laurent, at this moment was not the haughty, scoffing, 
Laurent we have seen in the streets of Leogane. His grave 
deportment and silence proved that he regarded the emer- 
gency as no ordinary affair. There was nothing in the coun- 
tenance of the Buccaneer that told of fear or trepidation. 
Any observer might have seen that he was perfectly indiffer- 
ent and careless about the issue of the struggle. A physician 
might have counted the pulsations of his heart and found 
them as regular as the oscillations of a pendulum. 

As to Malcolm, although his bearing was as bold and as 
fearless as that of Laurent, his spirit was not quite so se- 
rene. He felt himself attached to life by a thousand fond 
ties and bright hopes. The sun of his youth, so long dark- 
ened, had just burst forth in all the brightness of a glorious 
manhood. His happiness had shaped itself into one beau- 
teous form, which he was about to leave on eartn. He 
recked not of the mortal agony with which this bright light 
would soon, in all human probability, be quenched in his 
warm blood. His was the soul agony— that he would see 
Isabel Sandoval no more. But, strange inconsistency of 
the human heart, the face of Nativa, whom he had known 


I 


288 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


but two days, sometimes replaced that of the magnificent 
Spanish beauty. 

“ Sir,” replied Laurent, “I have both a moral and physi- 
cal certainty that I shall kill you. I pray you attach neither 
gasconade or strategem to my words, either to unsteady 
your hand, or demoralize your spirit. I say this for the pur- 
pose of adding that I feel for you a high esteem, and that 
you are the only man I have met with for the last ten years 
of my life, who is really honest or brave.” 

“ Sir,” replied Malcolm, smiling, “ your frankness pro- 
vokes mine. Up to this moment I was more than half con- 
vinced that this duel would be fatal to me, but now I have 
a presentiment, which amounts to a moral certainty that you 
will be the victim. What is the cause of this reaction in my 
spirit I know not; I simply state a fact. Permit me, then, 
after returning my thanks, to decline the eulogy of your 
premature funeral oration and to trust in my star. Could I 
avoid this duel with honor, I should scorn to do so. Yes- 
terday, in order to keep the truce we imposed upon our- 
selves, I with difliculty suppressed a desire to name to you 
a subject which was ever rising to my lips.” 

“ Explain yourself further, if you please,” said Laurent. 
“ A quarter of an hour, more or less, is of but little import- 
ance in comparison with the eternity which one of us is 
about to entei’. But permit me first to congratulate you 
for the happy reaction in your prophetic spirit. Truly, if 
your bullet stretches me dead upon this turf, you wiU cer- 
tainly have performed a very meritorious act in sight of 
mankind, which should entitle you to the civic crown, besides 
shunning many future evils and saving many worthy men 
like yourself; for to-day, thanks for the hatred I feel for my 
race, I have become a fiend insatiate of human blood. You 
see I put not such a valuation upon myself that my death 
would cause what you Christians call remorse. But now 
what is that interesting subject your impatient lips are 
burning to utter ?” 


A T MO UNT PITEOM 289 

*• Do you know Isabel Sandoval, of Monterey said Mal- 
colm. 

A smile parted the thin lips of Laurent. “If you are 
speaking of the daughter of the count of Monterey,” said 
he, “ certainly I know her — what then ?” 

“What then, sir,"” roared Malcolm, with concentrated 
rage. “Methinks, sir, that name alone was worth a little 
longer explanation. You have basely slandered that girl, 
and I love her.” 

“ My dear Sir Ismail,” said Laurent in a tone half affec- 
tionate, half sarcastic, “I am delighted to learn that you 
fancy that you have found a case of vengeance against me. 
It will inspire your courage, harden your heart, and steady 
your hands. Not wishing to abate your zeal in the cause of 
Isabel Sandoval, of Monterey, I will merely add that in case 
you are her lover, which is quite likely, I have done nothing 
to arouse the wrath of a jealous lover. On the contrary, 
she will be everlastingly grateful to you for my death, and 
■will reward you handsomely. Now, as we have already 
wasted more words than the loquacious heroes of Homer 
ever did, we will to business if you have no other demands 
to make.” 

“None, sir,” replied Malcolm, “except to repeat that I 
agree to any arrangement you make. 

“Well, then,” said Laurent, “we will toss up for the first 
fire from one end of a line of fifty paces. If number one 
misses his antagonist, which with such weapons as we have 
is very improbable, number two will have then the right to 
advance as close as he pleases, and blow out the unlucky 
marksman’s brains. In all other respects we will conform 
to the usages of the Buccaneers’ code. I will advise you of 
the fact, that a flash in the pan counts for a fire. If you are 
any way dubious about your priming, examine it. It is a 
very essential part of the case.” 

“ I will answer with my life, that that rifle is in proper 
^rder,” said Montbars, as he put the long rifle of Grey Beard 
into the hands of his nei)hew. 


290 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


Laurent tried the lock and springs of his own ride and 
examined the priming, then strode off fifty paces; putting 
one of the pistols he wore in his belt at each end of it, as 
marks and bounds. 

“ Now, sir,” said he, taking a louis d’or from his pocket, 
“ this gold piece with a head on one side and cross on the 
other, will decide which of us shall have the first fire.” Lau- 
rent tossed the gold in the air. 

“ Cross,” said Malcolm. 

The piece fell and turned head up. 

“ You have the fire, sir,” said Malcolm. 

Laurent bowed and hastened to his end of the line. His 
movements indicated that the agony of his unlucky antago- 
nist would not long be prolonged. 

Malcolm, pale but erect, haughty, defiant and motionless, 
with the butt of his rifle on the ground, the barrel resting in 
the hollow of his right arm, faced his adversary with an eye 
which was not likely to conciliate or soften . him. The man 
was but paying the natural tribute to human weakness, but 
the gentleman loyally guarded his honor. As to Montbars, 
though in bearing and mien he followed the example of his 
nephew, and stood as impassive as a statue, the most care- 
less observer could see by the nervous compression of his 
lips, the dark scowl on his brow, and the electric light that 
flashed from his eyes, that a storm was gathering in him ; 
that Laurent, victorious over the nephew, would find in the 
uncle a new and terrible adversary. 

Grey Beard, with his arms folded in careless indifference, 
only saw in the duel a trial of skill. He wished to see the 
thing done according to rule — nothing more. His chancery 
suit of thirty years was more exciting to him than the ter- 
rible drama of which he was the witness. 


THE DUEL. 


291 


CHAPTER XXXIL 

THE DUEL. 

As SOON as Laurent took his position at his end of the line, 
he brought his rifle to a “ ready,” and measured his antago- 
nist with his eye. He leveled his rifle with that steady 
and deadly precision always seen in skillful and practiced 
sharpshooters. Two seconds passed as he drew his bead. 
Then the hammer fell. The rifle flashed. There was no 
report. That faithful, fatal, weapon had missed fire. The 
priming only had burnt. 

“ Sir Ismail,” said Laurent, bringing the butt of his rifle to 
the ground, with an air of bitter mortification, “ I admit 
now that you are born under a lucky star. Certainly I 
must appear very ridiculous in your eyes now, after having 
just pronounced your funeral oration. This is the first time 
in my life that this weapon has failed. But no matter, I am 
in front of you and await your fire.” 

“ Ismail,” whispered Montbars, drawing near his nephew, 
“ no mercy — avenge Isabel Sandoval ! ” 

Malcolm, in* the first second which succeeded this miracu- 
lous intervention, felt neitheir astonishment or joy. The 
iron will which had nerved his soul to fall with the graceful 
dignity of Caesar, suppressed any demonstration of un- 
seemly exultation, but the name of Isabel whispered in his 
ear, evoked the reactionary spirit of imthless vengeance. 
Then came the thought that but for a contingency so provi- 
dential that it set all human calculation at defiance, he 
would at this instant have been weltering in his blood ; that 
Laurent, a stranger, whom in the first place he had never 
injured and subsequently saved from a violent death, had 
coolly and deliberately sought to kill him as complacently, 


292 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


as mechanically, as he would have crushed an insect ; then 
came the fiend which swells the heart with wrath and cries 
for blood — more blood ! 

Taking up his rifle, he cocked the hammer and advanced 
with a slow and steady pace towards his antagonist, who 
stood like a marble Lucifer, with a half smile upon his lips 
as if scoffing at all mortal agony, all human fear — beauti- 
fully wicked and subhmely brave. 

When Malcolm was within fifteen feet of Laurent, Nativa 
emerged from a cluster of trees and presented herself upon 
the scene. “ Sir Ismail,.” exclaimed she, “ are you going to 
kill Laurent. Do you not see that he is unarmed ? ” These 
words uttered in that clear silver tone, which rendered the 
words of this girl so much like the notes of fairy music, 
awakened Malcolm as it were from a frightful dream. 

“ Wretch that I am, what was I doing ! ” he exclaimed in 
a tone of utter self-reproach. “ Thanks, Nativa, your voice 
is that of an angel of mercy.” Then throwing up the 
muzzle of his rifle, already leveled at the heart of Laurent, 
fired it in the air. 

The acts of this scene passed with such rapidity, that 
some seconds of silence sealed the awe-struck lips of those 
present. 

‘‘ Hell and furies ! ” exclaimed Laurent, the first to break 
this awful pause. That face so calm, so serene, without 
change of expression or color, as it looked a frightful death 
out of countenance, was now distorted with rage and burn- 
ing with the fiery hue of wrath. “ Hell and furies, I say,” 
he repeated; “1 spurn your mawkish benevolence. Reload 
your rifle and fire upon me, or by aU the devils in hell I will 
blow out my brains with my own hand.” 

As Laurent uttered these words, he stooj)ed and picked 
up the pistol which he had laid down to mark his end of 
the line, cocked it and put the muzzle to his forehead. It 
was self evident that he would execute his threat. 

“ Sir,” said Malcolm to liim quickly, this meeting has 


THE DUEL. 


293 

been the result of certain indiscreet words I applied to you. 
I have called you coward and an^assin; now in the presence 
of Grey Beard, Montbars and Nativa, all present, I offer my 
apologies and withdraw the offensive words, for which I ask 
your pardon. What more could you exact ? ” 

At these words Laurent threw his pistol from him, sprang 
■' with a bound to Malcolm and embraced him. 

“ Sir Ismail,” said he, “ for ten years not one sentiment of 
humahity has pulsated in my heart. I owe to you this first 
tear that trembles upon my eyelids. I now know that 
among the human race there is one man worthy of being 
loved. Up to this day I have refused to have, what is cus- 
tomary with Buccaneer chiefs, an associate — executive officer, 
we call a comrade. Will you be that comrade ? ” 

All noble and generous spirits possess the instinctive 
faculty of appreciating and sharing all pure emotions that 
emanate from the hearts of others, and Malcolm knew that 
the offer of Laurent, under the circumstances, was a spon- 
taneous and unaffected emotion, so long dormant in a bleed- 
ing heart and j^erverted spirit. 

The responsible duties of the ranli presented to him in- 
volved such grave questions, that he reflected in silence 
some moments before he could reply. 

“ My dear boy,” said Montbars to his nephew, “ I must 
not permit the personal dislike with which I regard Lau- 
rent to bhnd me to his real merits. If I know him to be 
cruel, remorseless, fiendish, of terrible passions, satanic 
pride and stupendous crimes, I also know of none who is 
such a loyal subject and devoted slave to his word. Of his 
bravery and princely generosity, it is needless to speak. 
Since he wishes you to be his comrade, you have nothing 
to fear from his defections or defaults. You have only to 
profit by the experience of a brave and skillful commander, 
and I advise you to accept the offer.” 

“ Sir,” said Malcolm to Laurent, “ be persuaded I pray 
you, that none of the considerations, potent as they are, just 


294 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


submitted to me by Montbars, have determined my choice. 
It is undeniable that I have come to the Antilles to seek my 
fortune. I was born with a keen and ardent love of per- 
sonal independence ; a restless and sleepless ambition to 
hew my path with my sword, and a holy duty to rebuild my 
father’s house. Neither is it on account of being assodated 
with a brave and skillful commander that I accept your 
offer. I accept it because I believe you have suffered much 
and wni suffer more. Here is my hand.” 

Thanks, my comrade,” said Laurent pressing the young 
man’s hand between his own, “for such you are until a 
brighter path opens a more glorious future, and then it wiU 
be my duty and my honor to release you. Now there can 
be neither jealousy, rivalry or mistrust between us. One 
thing only must rest in holy silence sealed — that is our past. 
I pray you never question me upon it. Know this, that if 
you are imbued with the hereditary prejudices of your class, 
my rank by birth is equal to yours, however noble yours 
may be.” 

The party then were about to wend their way homeward 
to Grey Beard’s house, when Jahnan emerged from the 
cover of the forest, with the air of a man well satisfied with 
himself, carrying on his shoulder the long Buccaneer rifle he 
had purchased. 

“ Whence came you ? ” demanded his master. 

“From that thicket where I was hiding,” said Jalman, 
with the confident tone of a man who expects to be ap- 
plauded for what he has done. 

“ Why were you hiding there ? ” was the next question of 
the master. 

J alman answered this by casting a furtive, sidelong glance 
at Laurent. 

“ Come, I am waiting your answer,” said Malcolm im- 
patiently. 

“ WeU, master, if I must say it out,” said the servant cor- 
nered, “ I hid there to shoot that man if he had killed you.” 


THE DUEL. 


295 


“ Comrade,” said Laurent to Malcolm, “ the confession of 
your servant would remove any doubt, if I had any, that I 
have found in you a most worthy associate. To be thus 
loved by your inferior and servant is the most flattering of 
eulogies. As to you Jalman, here is five more louis d’ors to 
reward your fidehty to your master.” 

“Ah, that is too much,” said Jalman with awkward difii- 
dence, but at the same time eagerly clutching the gold 
tossed to him. “ What would you have given me if I had 
shot you ? A fortune no doubt.” 

As the party went their way to the house of Grey Beard, 
Malcolm and Laurent walked side by side for some time in 
silence. 

“ Comrade,” said Laurent at length, “ I must forewarn 
you not to be frightened at the terrible tales they will tell 
you about me. All are gross exaggerations. Believe but 
half. That half is bad enough for any reasonable man. I 
must have violent excitement to stifle memory and suppress 
self-examination. But for the storm of battle, the wild dance 
of death on the ocean-wave, the unbridled license of lust 
and passion, the devouring thirst of adventure that appals 
all others, I might be stupid enough to contemplate suicide. 
But suicide is despair and the brave dispise it. Next to you, 
there is but one being on earth that pleases me. That is 
Nativa. Time after time I have caught myself dreaming 
about that beautiful nymph of this wild forest.” Some mo- 
ments of silence was broken by a merry laugh on the part 
of Laurent, as he added, “ It must appear to you the ex- 
tremity of the ridiculous, that Nativa should make such an 
impression on me.” 

This avowal (^f an attachment for Nativa, caused Malcolm 
a slight pang which the last words of Laurent somewhat re- 
lieved. W^hy and wherefore, Malcolm sought not to an- 
alyze. 

The five men, upon reaching Grey Beard’s house, found 
an ample breakfast-table spread by Nativa who had pre- 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


29a 

ceded tliem. Jalman was in ecstacies over the luxurious 
living of the Buccaneers. At the tenth pitcher of cider he 
proposed to his master to settle and set up a “ boucan.” 

“ I intend to set up a boucan/’ said Malcolm, “ when I 
leave here, and put you in charge of it. You can watch 
over my interests, gather gold for yourself and serve Nativa 
for my sake.” 

The hilarity of Jalman vanished in a t^nnkling at the 
bare idea of separation, however remote and contingent, 
however tempting the conditions. But upon being assured 
that the separation under certain circumstances would be 
unavoidable and for the happiness of both he became com- 
posed, and finished another pitcher of cider. 

The breakfast over, Laurent borrowed a horse from Grey 
Beard and announced his intention of returning to Leogane 
without delay. “ Comrade,” said he to Malcolm, upon tak- 
ing leave of him, “ I have about twenty thousand louis d’ors 
left of the earnings of my last cruise, to s]pend, which will 
take me about fifteen days to accomplish. That duty per- 
formed I will advise you of the fact and we will take a little 
sea cruise. It is useless to add, if you want money I will bo 
your banker. Farewell, soon to meet again.” 

"With the departure of Laurent there came to Malcolm 
the idea of another delightful promenade through that grand 
old forest of the tropics, to which his serene fraternal love 
lent such a charm. 

Scarcely was Laurent out of sight ere Nativa came to 
seek her knight-companion of the chase. “ Shall we hunt to- 
day ?” said she. “ Gourd Head will go with us.” 

These last words appeared to vex Malcolm, which Nativa 
observed, and continued, “ I would greatly prefer that we 
went without him, but we must not slight Gourd Head. 
But for him I should this day have been the most miserable 
of human beings.” 

“ I do not understand you, Nativa,” said Malcolm. “ Ex- 
plain.” 


THE DUEL. 


297 


“ It is to Gourd Head, Sir Ismail,’' said Nativa, “ that you 
owe your life. Yes, even to him. It was he who, while 
Laurent was talking to me, drew the load from his rifle and 
reversed it by putting the hall down first and the powder 
above it. It was not accident so unaccountable that saved 
you. That will explain why I threw myself between ' you 
and Laurent when you were about to fire on him. You had 
run no danger, and I could not permit you to commit an 
involuntary assassination. But for that I should not have 
interfered to prevent you from killing him.” 

At the recital of this ruse Malcolm blushed deeply. “Na- 
tiva,” said he sternly, “your conduct in this case has been 
very indiscreet. You have exposed me to dishonor.” 

At this repremand the poor girl bowed her head, crushed 
by the weight of shame and mortification. Silent tears 
trickled down her cheeks. 

“My good Nativa,” said Malcolm, distressed in his turn 
at the sight of her grief, “forgive my petulance.” 

“Oh, yes; I have done very wrong,” said she, smiling 
through her tears, “ but under similar circumstances I would 
do it again were you to kill me for it.” Then with instinct- 
ive modesty she hesitated, and after a few moment’s silence 
she continued, in a gentle tone of entreaty, with her hands 
clasped like a Madonna in prayer, “ Sir Ismail I entreat you, 
when you are displeased with me, do not scold me as you 
did a moment ago. It distresses me too much to see you 
angry, with me. My heart is breaking. I feel as if I could 
die. You must not be so cross to me again. If you knew 
how much I love you, you would bitterly repent of the pain 
you have given me.” 

“ Forgive me, my Nativa,” said Malcolm, pressing the fair 
girl’s head to his bosom and kissing her cheek. 


298 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

THE SPY. 

A MONTH had glided by since Malcolm had been the guest 
of Grey Beard, and he had heard nothing from Laurent or 
Montbars, who had gone to Dublin to confer with king 
James the 11. , who had made Ireland the base of his milh 
tary operations to recover his kingdom and crown. 

The voluptuous autumn of the tropics had set in. Mal- 
colm, at first turning with enthusiasm to enter upon that 
bright path of which his prophetic spirit had foretold such 
glory and happiness, had been counting with feverish im- 
patience the minutes, hours, days, weeks and months which 
detained him in that slothful inactivity. But as time rolled 
on and brought no external change in his position, his ar- 
dent longing to plume his wings and soar through space 
cooled down, until the idea of leaving the hospitable roof 
of Grey Beard brought a pang to his heart. 

It is needless to say that the graces of the Buccaneeress, 
step by step — unknown to either — effected this transforma- 
tion in Malcolm. Isolated as his life had been, he was the 
more susceptible to the magic influence of beauty and in- 
nocent loveliness. Prom being impatient he became con- 
tented. From the laisser-aller of contentment he became 
enamored of the dolce far niente of the Eden over whose 
roseate hues the chaste intimacy of Nativa threw aU the 
charms of a beautiful Eve. It would have been impossible 
for one so young, so ardent, so lofty in his unsullied honor, 
in whose veins ran the blood of those pre-historic kings of 
Scotland, not to have been Edenized with such a life, with 
such a woman — whose love for him was both her temple and 
her castle, a hfe which if it beguiled him of his ambition 


THE SPY. 


299 


preserved him from the temptations and corruptions of 
crime. Attracted, in the first instance, by the charming 
originality of her character, he was not long in discovering 
in her more solid qualitieso Day by day some new feature 
of mind and heart enhanced the value of previous discov- 
eries. What the world terms education had been entirely 
neglected in Nativa. She had grown up to a woman’s estate 
beautifully guileless of scholastic attainments; and Malcolm 
undertook the pleasant task of teaching her. 

The Buccaneeress at first evinced a thorough disgust for 
the irksome task of learning the elementary lessons. “ What 
does it import to me, what those books teach ?” she would 
say to her teacher. “What can I learn from them more val- 
uable than what I already know ? My simple life has but 
three simple duties — to believe in God, to love the good, to 
shun the wicked. What can I see in those black lettered 
books more grand than this grand old antideluvian forest ? 
Let us leave these tedious things which tire ine and learn 
me nothing — the day is beautiful, the birds are warbling in 
the trees — take a rifle and let us hunt.” 

One day Malcolm replied to her, “ Nativa if I were far 
away from you and were to write you a letter, would you 
not like to be able to read it alone without the assistance of 
others ?” 

That question made a deep impression upon her. After 
some moment’s reflection she exclaimed, clapping her hands 
with childish glee, “ Oh, I never thought of that. You 
are right— education is a charming thing. By it you can 
converse with those you love when far away. Why, did you 
not tell me of that before? From this day I will learn.” 

Under the inspiration of that idea Nativa devoted herself 
to her books. Tn fifteen days she had learned to read cor- 
rectly and write legibly. 

One day Malcolm and his pupil returned from one of 
their rambles and found a stranger seated at Grey Beard’s 
table. Both simultaneously felt a presentiment of separa- 


800 


THE BVCCANEERS. 


tion. Tlie stranger was a messenger from Laurent and lie 
brought a letter to Malcolm. 

“ Comrade,” Laurent wrote, “ as bad luck would have it I 
bad to undergo the tedious process of winning and losing 
two hundred thousand louis dbrs before I could get rid of 
that twenty thousand. But j^esterday my last louis and last 
diamond went, and I am now ready for sea and the Span- 
iards. I am making up a crew. I expect you to-morrow.” 

This letter, wliich three weeks ago would have over- 
whelmed Malcolm with joy, now jiroduced sadness. 

As to Nativa, she became deathly pale. 

With faint and trembhng accents she addressed Mal- 
colm. “ Ismail Malcolm why will you leave us ? What 
is gold to you? How will it serve you? What will you 
do with it? In tastes and habits you are unlike all 
others. You love neither play, drink or any kind of dissi- 
pation. What more on earth could you desire than this 
grand and beautiful forest, perfumed by the breath of mil- 
lions of sweet flowers and fanned by the breezes of the 
ocean — a hunting ground fashioned by an Almighty Father 
for us two, his children — a rifle that brings down a wild bull 
at two hundred paces and a sister that loves you ? Do you 
love space and liberty, — are not they here in boundless pro- 
fusion ? Why expose yourself to terrible dangers to gather 
gold which is useless to ^^our happiness ? Stay with me. I 
v/ill be devoted to you; I will anticipate all your wishes; I 
will obey you in all things. I pray you, I implore j^ou, go 
not away. What will become of mo when you are away ? 
It is true that father Grey Beard and Gourd Head are kind 
to me; but, I know not how it is, they are not like what 
they used to be — ^they are changed. They do not know 
how to love me. Father Grey Beard can think of nothing 
but his chancery suit. As to Gourd Head, I do not know 
what he thinks about — it is certainly not my happiness. 
You and you only have true affection for me. I have done 
you no ill that you should make me so wretched. Do not 
go away I ” 


THE SPY. 


301 


Malcolm, in the acuteness of his sensibility, was powerless 
to reply. 

Then spoke Grey Beard. “ My child,” said he in his slow 
methodical manner, “ do not grieve so. Your distress only 
proves that you have found your first love in Sir Ismail — - 
that is all. When a woman’s heart has felt its first passion 
it will very soon feel a second. An absent lover is soon 
replaced by a substitute. Nevertheless if Sir Ismail wishes 
to stay let him do so — he is welcome. It is immaterial with 
me. I wish every one to seek his happiness where he can 
find it. I refuse hospitality to none.” At these words from 
the bps of a man who had notliing in common with the 
civilized world except an obsolete claim of nobility, Nativa 
was troubled and silent. It was evident that she did not 
comprehend their tenor and import. But they touched 
Malcolm’s exquisite sense of delicacy. 

The next day at dawn Malcolm left the hospitable roof of 
Grey Beard for Leogane. Jalman and Nativa with her pack 
of stag-hounds, escorted him to the precints of the city. 

During their long journey to Leogane Malcolm and Nativa 
exchanged but few desultory common place words. Nativa, 
in deep abstraction, was absorbed in her own musings ; and 
as to Malcolm, he would have persuaded himself that his 
separation from the Buccaneeress was a matter of ordinary 
import had he been able to suppress the deep fraternal in- 
terest he felt in her fate. 

“ Sir Ismail,” said Nativa, before taking her leave of him, 
do not forget that if you are killed I can never live happy 
afterwards. Do not be rash in battle if you truly love me, 
as I beheve you do ; and remember that in defending your- 
self you defend Nativa. Now adieu.” 

She extended her hand, and then, with a sweet smile, 
turned away and departed. 

Malcolm expected a more emotional conge. He was 
somewhat piqued at Nativa’s composure. He followed her 
retreating form with an expectant eye that she would either 


302 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


look back or return. In this lie was disappointed. So ob- 
servant was be of Nativa’s movements that he failed to 
notice that Jalman’s adieus were not made at all. 

Four days later Malcolm and Laurent went to Tortuga, 
where the latter was to collect and ship his expeditionary 
crew. 

The day after his arrival in this stronghold of Buccaneer 
power, as Laurent was passing through the quarters of 
Basse Terre, he was accosted by a stout, square built man 
with a red face and grizzly hair, in the costume of an Eng- 
lish sailor, bearing a cutlass and pistol. 

“ Captain Laurent,’’ said the stranger, gracefully removing 
a red worsted cap and displaying a bald spot on the top of 
his head, “ I have a private and important communication 
for you. Will you be so kind as to retire with me to some 
private place where our conversation can be unheard and 
uninterrupted ? ” 

The Buccaneer chief, accustomed to such communications, 
evinced no surprise and attached no importance to a matter 
over which the stranger appeared to spread such a cloud of 
mystery. “ Let us go to the beach,'’ replied he, “ the only 
clear and open space where we can see every strange sail 
before they can get within hailing distance.” 

“ Now, sir, who are you and what do you want ? ” said 
Laurent, when they reached the water’s edge, with the 
surf rolling one side of them and a zone of clear white sand 
on the other. 

“ Captain,” replied the stranger, “ to come to you I have 
to play a life game in which the chances are ten to one 
against life, therefore I ask in advance your word of honor 
not to betray me ? ” 

“ When did I acquire the reputation of betrajung those 
who come to me on secret missions, particularly when they 
look death out of countenance and the devil in the face ? ’ 
exclaimed the wrathy Buccaneer in a voice of thunder. “ 1 
do not know what restrains me from breaking your head 


THE SPY. 


803 


and throwing your carcass out as bait to those sharks 
gambohng in the surf.” With these words Laurent meas- 
ured the stranger with a keen and searching eye and rapid 
glance. 

He was apparently about fifty years of age ; his hair was 
in the transition from dark brown to gray ; his broad and 
square shoulders, prominent chest, compact and muscular 
frame, indicated great physical strength ; his square chin, 
compressed lips, ample jaw and keen gray eyes were indi- 
cative of decision, perseverance, resolution ; while his red 
face and carbuncled nose told a tale that those qualifications 
were alloyed by intemperance. 

“ Captain,” replied the stranger, undaunted by the fierce 
words of the choleric Buccaneer, “ I ask your pardon if my 
words are offensive ; I did not mean them such. When 
you hear me, even you will admit that my precautions were 
absolutely necessary and indispensable to my safety. I leave 
nothing to chance which human foresight or human agency 
can accomplish.” 

“Well then, to business,” replied Laurent. “ I am satis- 
fied with your explanations and promise not to betray you.” 

“ Captain,” replied the stranger ; “ I am CoL John Coade, 
of Maryland.” 

“ Ah ! John Coade, of Maryland,” said Laurent hissing the 
words as it were between his compressed lips and clenched 
teeth. “ Oh, the traitor, who deserted his old associates to 
join himself with the Puritans of Maryland, to ape William 
of Orange at playing a little game of revolution in the pro- 
prietary capital Saint Mary's on the 9th of last August, and 
then on a frivolous plea of ‘ military necessity," hung two of 
our boys, because they had the misfortune to know too 
much— -the traitor Coade, uj^on whose head the Buccaneers 
have set a price ! Well, your business ? ” 

Coade’s fiery face and warty nose was darkened with a 
shade of darker purple as these words were uttered, and 
his hand mechanically and unconsciously sought the handle 


304 


THE BUCCANEEBS, 


of liis cutlass. “ Business,” replied lie, with an emphatic 
sneer upon the word, “ took me a few days ago to Granada 
to see ‘the count of Monterey, and I have brought from that 
city' a letter for you.” 

‘‘ A letter for me from a Spaniard,'' said Laurent. 

“From a Sj)anish lady,” said Coade. 

“ Ah ! there is a lady in the case ?” said the Buccaneer chief 
with a smile and shrug. “ How much has that lady promised 
to give you to play for your head against such fearful odds ?” 

“ A sum which none but a prince or a Laurent would 
give,” said Coade with a grim smile. 

“ Oh,” replied Laurent, with a merry laugh, “ it must be 
from some one who fancies that she is in love wdth me.” 

Laurent tore open the letter Coade gave him, devoured 
its contents at a glance, tore it in pieces, and tossed the 
atoms to the winds. 

“ WeU, Captain,” said Coade, after gazing at him some 
seconds in silence, “is there no reply?” 

“ Tell the simpleton who sent you that it is customary 
with me to forget the names of m}’^ mistresses, and that 
the signature to that letter neither identifies or locates the 
writer. Now, sir, take yourself from this island as quick as 
you can. It is true I have promised not to betray you, but 
I have not promised to let your brains keep their place if I 
catch you an hour hence. A spy and a traitor are with us 
synonomous terms/’ 

“Captain,” replied Coade, “I swear upon my bottle and 
by my sword, which is the most sacred oath I can take, that 
my errand here has nothing political in it, but ” 

“But what?’' interpolated the impatient Buccaneer; 
“ have you another letter ? That would be delightful. No 
lying--out with it — has that Spanish girl given you another 
letter?” 

“Yes, Captain,” said Coade, with some slight quavering 
in his voice. 

“ Ah, here is quite a comedy,” said Laurent vdth a sar- 
donic grin. “ For whom is the second epistle ?” 


THE SPY. 805 

“But, Captain,” said Coade, stammering, “I am not quite 
^re 

“ Be careful, John Coade,” said Laurent with a sinister 
flash from his eye. “ I never reiterate an order or repeat a 
question.” 

Coade knew Laurent too well to parley with him. He 
handed over to the Buccaneer chief the second letter. 

“Ah, can it be possible,” exclaimed Laurent, “that I read, 
“ To Sir Ismail Malcolm ?” “ Oh, Isabel, Isabel ! My cruel- 

ty to you has borne its fruits. The heart upon which I have 
trodden has been aroused to vengeance. Behold a triumph 
for me of which I am justly proud.” 

Laurent, holding the letter addressed to Sir Ismail Mal- 
colm in his hand, stood pondering for some moments in 
deep meditation. It was probably the first time in his life 
he hesitated what course to pursue. “Poor confiding young 
man,” thought he. “ How could he, with all his generous, 
noble and unworldly impulses ever resist the body and soul 
fascinating spell of that enchantress, Isabel Sandoval? Me 
thinks I see him now just awakening from that Circean slum- 
ber, crushed in spirit, with a bleeding heart, desperate, reck- 
less, blaspheming God and cursing man, a scoffer at ’woman’s 
vii’tue and man’s honesty — just as I teas fifteen years ago. I 
ought to destroy this letter. But — ^bah I To what purpose ? 
Isabel would very promptly employ other and more efficient 
means to recapture her victim. She is a bold and daring 
spirit, that Isabel Sandoval. Sometimes I, even I, doubt my 
own senses when under the spell of her dark magic eye. I 
ask myself if I am not magnetized by the electricity of that 
glittering orb- -if I do not see in it the reflection of a heart 
sublimated by love and the tenderness of woman, which re- 
calls the bright visions of my youth, ere my soul was stained 
with crime. But ’tis foUy to argue a case of contradictions. 
Can a daughter of Eve love truly — ^tenderly— devotedly ? 
No ; a thousand times, no. They have nerves, but not hearts. 
Chance must have thrown me in that girl’s way when her 


306 


THE BUGGANEERS. 


imagination was wandering in a labyrinth of chimeras and 
she fancied she saw in me the hero of one of her romances. 
That is the only logical deduction I can draw from her con- 
duct.” 

Then, addressing himseK to Coade, he continued, By 
what means do you expect to get away from here ?” 

“ Just as I came,” was the cool reply. “ I have a canoe 
hid away among the sand reefs and a Spanish merchant ship 
is waiting for me out in the channel.” 

“Yerygood,” replied Laurent. “I will go with you to 
your canoe — and see you off safe. As to this letter, I will 
see that it reaches the person to whom it is addressed. If 
j’^ou are questioned about it say that it has been delivered.” 

They will not believe me, Captain.” 

“Why not ?” 

“Because I was to bring Sir Ismail with me.” • 

“ The Devil,” exclaimed Laurent, with vexation. “ That 
Spanish girl plans grandly and does not do things by halves. 
Ah, well. Coade, here is what you must do — ^pay attention 
to what I tell you. Say to Isabel Sandoval that Sir Ismail 
was transported with joy when he received her letter, and 
was about to sail with you, when you were discovered and 
had to ff}^ for your life.” 

“I will do so. Captain.” 

“Now, Coade, one word more,” continued the Buccaneer, 
shaking his forefinger at the burly and stalwart revolutionist 
of Maryland. “ If ever I learn — and learn I will sooner or 
later — that you have evaded or neglected one jot or tittle of 
iny instructions, I swear to you by the honor of Laurent, 
which is the most sacred oath I can take, that I wiU seek you in 
every hole and corner of the world and sooner or later will 
find you, to die the most horrible of deaths. You know 
that I always keep my word and always succeed in everything^ 
I undertake. I understand your case. You sold yourself 
to the Puritan party of Maryland for the money they did 
not pay. They cheated you after using your revolutionary 


THE SFT. 


307 


services. "Witli them you were good enough for revolution 
hut not for government. Those seven hundred men you en- 
listed to march upon Saint Mary’s last August, upon promise 
to pay, have not been paid; and the proprietary capital of 
Maryland is getting rather too warm for you. You have 
sold yourself to the count of Monterey for money. He has 
paid you much — ^but I will pay you more if you obey me.” 

“You understand my case precisely, Captain; I could not 
have stated it better myself,” said Coade, with a grim sar- 
castic smile ; “ and your last alternative suits me best. Your 
instructions shall be followed to the letter.” 

An hour later, after having seen Coade’s canoe well out 
to sea, Laurent went to the inn where Sir Ismail was wait- 
ing for him. 

“ Comrade,” saidLaurent, upon entering, “ here is a letter 
for you.” 

“A letter for me!” exclaimed the overjoyed Malcolm; 
“ from Nativa, of course.” 

But when he had opened the letter he turned first pale 
and then crimson as he devoured its contents. 

“ Who gave you this letter ?” inquired he of Laurent. 

“ A stranger, who put it into my hands, and then took to 
his heels, which is somewhat unaccountable.” 

“Ah, comrade,” said Malcolm with a burst of exultation, 
“if you but knew what joy that letter brings to me ! ” 

“So much the better,” said Laurent, “as happiness is 
such a rarity among us.” 

Twenty times Malcolm was on the point of revealing the 
contents of the letter to his associate, but each time the fear’ 
of compromising Isabel restrained him. The day passed 
with a mUlenium for every second in the heart of the happy 
lover. 

“Comrade,” said Laurent to him, at sunset, “will you go 
with me to the Anchor inn ? I must now make up a crew, 
and there is the place where all of our boys congregate 
when on the lookout for a ooruise.” 


308 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


‘MVIy comrade,” replied Malcolm, after some hesitation, 
“I have a painful confession to make. I cannot go on this 
cruise with you.” 

“ Not go mth me ! Are you deranged or only joking ? ” 

“ No, Laurent. I mean what I say. ’Tis useless to bandy 
words. I acknowledge my error and bow to your reproof ; 
but know this, that in the course of every man’s life there 
comes one of those decisive moments which determines his 
fate for good or iU. That fated hour has just sounded for 
me I no longer belong to myself.” 

“ Oh, I understand,” said Laurent, with a sarcastic shrug 
of his shoulders. “ Some little love affair.” 

“ In speaking thus,” comrade, said Malcolm fiercely, “ you 
commit a sacrilege.” 

Oh, of course,” replied Laurent, sneering. Is not 
every lover’s Dulcinee too angelic for eartff, and he the only 
mortal capable of appreciating her peerless character, her 
priceless virtue and heavenly grace — her constancy the 
more devoted, the more tempted and tried, and sets perse- 
cution at defiance. Indeed, Sir Ismail, I thought you made 
of harder metal. What ! because you have had an assig- 
nation with one of those nymphs of the street, whom the 
French government ships here by the cargo to populate our 
colonies, you abandon your flattering prospects of fortune 
and fame, and falsify your word ? ” 

“ Oh, Laurent, how much you deceive yourself,” replied 
Malcolm in expostulation. “ The woman I love is one of the 
noblest and most beautiful women the earth has ever borne 
on its bosom.” 

“ Of course,” said Laurent ; “ the very paragon I have 
just spoken of, which every lover thinks that he and he only 
has discovered.” 

“ The woman I love,” continued Malcolm, regardless of 
the sneer, “ is not in the island of San Domingo.” 

“Some bonnie lassie in old Yirginia,” continued Laurent, 
with the same scoffing tone and mocking eye, “ v/ho by this 


THE spy: 


309 


time is angling for some punchy manor lord of fifty, or flirts 
ing with some beardless youth under twenty. I cannot, for 
the life of me, comrade, see what there is in all that to make 
you false to your word or prevent you from going to sea 
with me.” 

“ Hear me, Laurent, Will you keep my secret ? ” 

“ Between comrades like us, it is sacred.” 

“Well then,” continued Malcolm, “the queen of my heart 
is a daughter of one of our enemies — a Spaniard.” 

“ That only proves the correctness of your taste,” said 
Laurent. “ The Spanish girls are the most lovely of Eve’s 
fair daughters. But in what part of the Lord’s vineyard 
dwells this angelic queen of yours ? ” 

“ Granada,” said Malcolm. 

“ Granada ! Why, the devil ! ” continued Laurent, “ that 
is one of the best fortified cities in South America.” 

“ I know it,” said Malcolm. “ But what does that matter 
to me ? ” 

“ It matters thus,” said Laurent : “ if you were to go 
there and should be suspected of being an English Jacobite 
or Buccaneer ally, which is quite likely and highly probable 
as you do not sj^eak Spanish, they would hang you on the 
walls as a spy without even the formality of a trial.” 

“ Ah, Laurent,” replied Malcolm in expostulation, “ could 
you, so daring, shrink from such dangers under such cir- 
cumstances ? ” 

“ Hear me,” said Laurent. “ If it were my own case, I 
should argue differently. I have resources which few if 
any have. Where you would be run up high and dry to a 
limb of a tree, I would escape with all the honors of war. 
But to come to the point. You decline cruising with me 
because you have an idea of going to Granada — is it 
not so ? ' 

‘ Yes, Laurent, it is even so,” was the calm reply. 

“ One question more,” continued Laurent. “ How do you 
propose to get to Granada ? You cannot procure convey- 


810 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


ance from Tortuga or San Domingo, because our rules and 
regulations inflict a death penalty upon any of the Bucca- 
neers who land upon Spanish -territory in any other capacity 
than enemies or spies. The Spanish authorities know that, 
and it would decide your case at once. As to the man who 
brought the letter you can expect no aid from him, because 
I saw him borne off before the wind with every rag of can- 
vas he could carry.” 

“ I do not deny, Laurent,” said Malcolm, in a firm but 
sad tone, ‘‘that obstacles apparently insurmountable are 
before me. But by the insi)iration of hope and love I wiU 
surmount them. I trust in my star. I believe I will suc- 
ceed.” 

“ I do not share your opinion,” replied Laurent. “ You 
take hojDe for reality, anticipations for facts. The future 
will decide which of us is right or wrong. In the meanthne 
will you go with me to the Anchor inn ? ” 

“ I am at your service, Laurent.” 

“ Well, time flies— -let us go.” 

The Anchor inn — so called from having a ship’s anchor 
painted on. its sign-board— was one of the most noted places 
of resort in the Antilles, not so much from its luxurious 
accommodations as from the fact that it, combined the char- 
acteristics of an exchange, gambling saloon and coffee house 
in one establishment. It was there the Jew brokers came 
to buy prizes which J:hey afterwards sold at enormous 
profits ; it was there gamesters staked and lost sums which 
would have assured them competency and independence 
the remainder of their lives ; it was there expeditionary 
cruises were planned ; it was there popular captains ob- 
tained their best seamen. This inn, built of squared trunks 
of palm trees and stuccoed with mortar, contained but one 
large room capable of containing two hundred persons. 

The arrival of the haughty and aristocratic Laurent, who 
seldom ever came there, caused a lively commotion among 
the inmates of the Anchor. It was a palpable indication 


THE SPY, 


311 


that some stirring project was on the tapis. Laurent’s per- 
sonal superiority was unquestioned by all. They tolerated 
in him a degree of arrogance which in another would have 
been followed by bloody reprisal — his daring was so incred- 
ible. His success had hitherto passed the bounds of possi- 
bility. With aU this his lavish prodigality, his unbounded 
munificence, was such that the Buccaneers looked upon him 
with a superstitious awe. 

A Buccaneer captain — the celebrated and arch millionaire, 
Yan Horn — had the temerity one day to repremand him. 
The next day the terrible Yan Horn, before whom the whole 
Antilles trembled, was killed in a duel by Laurent. 

Scarcely had he crossed the door sill of the inn when he 
was surrounded by a dense, compact mass who were curious 
to gaze upon him. 

“ Back — and a little less noise, if you please,” said he, 
elevating his voice, ‘‘ I wish to speak to you.” 

These words were followed by a breathless silence, during 
which Laurent mounted a table. ‘‘ Brethren of the sea, I 
have just come to release all of you who contracted with me 
for my next expedition from your engagements. No com- 
plaints — no murmurs. Hear me without interruption. I 
have changed the character of that expedition and, as I am 
not in the habit of deceiving my shipmates, I thought it due 
to you to make this declaration in order that all who wish 
to go with me may know the conditions under which they 
ship. I have taken it into, my head to amuse myself with a 
pleasure trip.” 

The last words uttered by this Buccaneer chief had a very 
significant meaning, and had already acquired a noted celeb- 
rity in the history of that extraordinary association. They 
meant that he was about to put in operation one of those 
audacious projects which had rendered him so terrible to 
the Spaniards. It was on these occasions that he received 
none but the most daring of his associates. He generally 
found it difficult to choose out of so many volunteers. 


312 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


“My friends,” continued he, with an imperious wave of 
his hand, to command silence, “ I have hut two words to 
add. Those who ship with me will really have something to 
do. I have been biased and ennuied long enough. I intend 
to find something really amusing. Recollect, I answer no 
questions. I hate blabbers and braggarts. Who will go ?” 

One hundred and fifty voices yelled out, “ I ! ” All that 
the inn contained had responded to the call of Laurent. 

“ Comrade,” said he, leaping from the table and whisjper- 
ing in the ear of Malcolm, “ I know that you will volunteer, 
upon reflection. Keep my secret~mj object is to take Gra- 
nada.” 

“Laurent,” exclaimed Malcolm with glowing cheeks and 
flashing eyes, “I accept your noble aid, and by the memory 
of my honored father, I swear that from this day forth I 
will be devoted to you till death.” 

“Bah! that will do for gratitude,” said Laurent with a 
smile. “ Don’t fancy that I am to take Granada just to bring 
you and your lady-love together. It is simply to amuse my- 

In a few moments more Laurent fiUed up his shipping hst 
of volunteers who neither knew or cared to know what his 
audacious project contemplated. They numbered eighty 
men. He had rejected seventy volunteers. The men chosen 
were the elite of the Buccaneer chivalry. 


THE EMJBAMKATION. 


313 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

THE EMBARKATION. 

One hour after his appearance at the Anchor inn, Laurent 
embarked with twenty oarsmen in one of those long, nar- 
row canoes so peculiar to the Antilles, propelled by sails and 
oars with astonishing speed. Scudding before an easterly 
wind, the long and sharp canoe flew over the waves like a 
seagull, barely touching the water. Seated in the stern, the 
bold and daring Buccaneer held the tiller with a moody and 
abstracted air. 

“ Ah, the lady Isabel wishes to see me, does she ?” thought 
he. “ Her will be done. Why the devil did not the idea of 
taking Granada come into my head while I was reading her 
letter, instead of stumbling upon it at the inn? Then I 
would have detained Coade; now I must catch him as I can. 
His capture is indispensable to the capture of Granada. He, 
and he only, can give the information I want. Pull steady 
and strong and all together, men. Thirty louis d’ors to the 
man who first signals the craft I wish to overhaul.” 

Laurent, before starting in pursuit of Coade, had calcu- 
lated with precision, the distance he must have gained and 
the course he must have taken. 

“ That Spanish lugger which is laying to for him,” thought 
he, “would never have dared to come within six leagues of 
the coast, and as Coade is alone, wind and tide against him, 
he cannot escape.” 

For the next two hours Laurent uttered not a word. 
He was intensely occupied in scanning and sweeping with 
his eye, the clear expanse bounded by the horizon. The sea 
lay glittering and rolling in the rays of a full moon in a 
clear sky; it was nearly as light as day. Suddenly the clear 


814 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


aud ringing voice of the Buccaneer chief rose above the pe- 
culiar murmuring of the moonlit sea and the hoarse dash- 
ing of the sj)ray as it fell in showers from the bow of the 
canoe, which cleft the rolling waves like the blade of a knife. 

“ Hello, my friends,” said he to the oarsmen, “are you 
all so careless about those thirty gold pieces that none of 
you could see that sail on her larboard tack just to the wind- 
ward of us : Her rigging shows as plain as a palm-tree in 
a savannah. Give way. Steady now ! ” 

The oarsmen, though advised of the fact and the course 
the strange sail was standing, could with difficulty make out 
what was so palpably plain to Laui’ent, who was celebrated 
for the strength, clearness and keeness of his vision. He 
used no glasses. His naked eye alone sufficed to discover 
objects v/hich others failed to see with the best optical instru- 
ments. A horizon of ten leagues from a radiating centre 
could conceal nothing from him in a clear, open sea. 

In an hour more, the canoe of the Buccaneers was along- 
side of the Spanish trader. The lugger was about tw^o han- 
dred tons burthen, and manned by a crew of ten men, who 
offered no resistance to the Buccaneers when they boarded. 
The first person Laurent saw on the deck was Coade, who, 
brave as he was and veteranized as he had been in a thous- 
and bloody affrays, could not but feel a sinking of the heart 
and trembling of his knees, when he saw before him that 
terrible man, whom he had left brever as he thought, at 
Tortuga. 

“Get into my canoe, and not a word,” said the imperious 
Buccaneer chief. “ If you serve me faithfully you shall not 
be harmed, but if you attempt to evade or deceive me, you 
wdll die the most cruel of deaths.”' 

In silence Coade descended the gangway ladder and 
seated himself in the stern of the canoe. 

“Your long absence and the great change in your personal 
appearance,” said Laurent to him, after they had put off 
from the Spanish lugger, “ will prevent any recognition of 


THE EMBARKATION. 


315 


you by your old comrades. I will caU you Jack Eedman 
and pass you off as a deserter from, an English man.of-war. 
Keep eyes open and your moutli shut.” 

Day was dawning when the Buccaneers reached Tortuga. 
Laurent paid and dismissed his oarsmen, without any furth- 
er explanation than to say, “ All right, boys; we have secured 
the object we sought.” 

The Buccaueers, who, on ordinary occasions exacted a cir- 
cumstantial detail of objects, w-ays and means, from their 
commanders, were content with these few words. Laurent 
had disciplined them to passive obedience. 

Having reached his own quarters at Basse Terre, the Buc- 
caneer chief began his cross examination of Coade. 

,“Now,” said he, “explain to me in detail, the instructions 
you received from the lady Isabel Sandoval. I cannot un- 
derstand why she, after writing to me as she did, should 
charge you to bring back with you. Sir Ismail Malcolm. 
Have you not made — a mistake ?” 

“ Not a bit of it. Captain,” was the sturdy reply of Coade. 
“ Isabel Sandoval expressly charged me to see you first and 
deliver you your letter first, and in case you responded 
xingracioudy, then, and then only, was I to deliver her letter 
to Sir Ismail Malcolm. I have faithfully earned out her in- 
structions so far as in me lay.” 

“ Ah, now,” said Laurent, musing, “ I can fathom the 
dear girl’s charitable intentions. My disdainful conduct has 
brought on a crisis. She sought an avenger. What a sin- 
gular coincidence that she should address herself to him. I 
have perfect confidence in the loyalty of my comrade. It 
will make quite a dramatic scene for him to witness her 
treachery ; it wiU be quite charming and exhilerating. It 
may procure me one moment’s release from the fangs of that 
tormenting fury, the past — that dark foreshadow of a more 
terrific future with which I must struggle in an immortality 
of ill. It must steel my heart against sensibility, my soul 
against remorse, so that I can curse the human race. But 


316 


THE BUCCAEEEHS. 


I have not yet stifled all the emotions of humanity. There 
are times when the memories of my youth, so cruelly be- 
trayed, will come unbidden, oftimes when I have come out 
of some infernal orgie or some bloody fight, where, to 
deaden my senses, I have scattered gold in showers or shed 
blood in torrents. I have felt something lilie remorse, some- 
thing lihe regret at the life I lead, when I have asked my- 
self if repose would not be preferable to the ever raging 
storm of the God forsaken life I lead. But repose without 
peace is death without oblivion. Then to think that I — who 
hold myself so superior to all others, I, whose pride is that 
of Lucifer, whose will is law among my associates, who was 
born upon the steps of a throne I may say — should feel all 
the pangs of jealousy and mortified self love at the thouglij:, 
the idea, that she — Nativa, that beautiful wild flower of San 
Domingo — should be the bride of some Gourd Head, who 
will take her ‘ to wife ’ without knowing or being able to 
know the value of the priceless jewel he has picked up. 
And then Laurent, the famous Buccaneer of the Antilles, is 
smitten with the fair face of Nativa ! That is the cream of 
a very rich joke. And after all why not? Am. I not high 
enough and strong enough to elevate her without degrading 
my own rank? Is she not the lovehest of God’s handi- 
work ? Could Europe, with all its civilization, produce such 
a woman ? ” 

The Buccaneer chief passed his hand nervously across his 
brow as if to brush, away the perplexing idea which had 
rendered him unconscious for a time of the presence of 
Coade, and then resumed his examination. 

“ How long have you been at Granada ? ” 

About fifteen days. Captain.” 

“ In that case, you ought to know the location and mili- 
tary position of the city.” 

“ Perfectly, Captain.” 

“ What is the population ? ” 

“ About twelve thousand, Captain.” 


THE EMBARKATIOK 


317 


“ Wliat is the strength of the garrison ? ” 

“ Six hundred regulars, which with the municipal militia, 
makes an effective force of three thousand men. Captain.” 

Laurent fixed his magnetic eye upon Coade’s face with a 
searching glance. 

Coade met that eye like a skillful swordsman parrying a 
thrust. 

Laurent then threw himself all dressed as he was upon a 
bed. “ I forbid you, and your interest does the same,” said 
he to Coade, ‘‘to go out of this room or show yourself to 
any one whatever. If you have a penchant to assassinate 
me while I sleep, there are my pistols already loaded and 
quite handy.” 

In five minutes the Buccaneer chief was in a sound sleep. 

When a crew was organized for a sea cruise, the person 
who furnished the ship had a percentage rated in advance 
upon all the prizes taken on the cruise, in addition to this 
the ordnance and ordnance stores taken with the prizes 
were the perquisites of the ship owner or owners. Com- 
panies of speculators, mostly Jews, were estabhshed at Tor- 
tuga for this purpose, buying at a very low price the cap- 
tured ships and armaments, whenever dice, wine and women 
had emptied the purse of any noted captain of Buccaneers, 
and they were on the alert to furnish him with a ship on 
very accommodating terms. The reputation of Laurent was 
such, that so soon as it was known that he was in the 
market for an independent cruise, these ship brokers in 
their competition with each other offered him the fleetest 
clippers on the lowest terms. In two days after he had 
announced his intention at the Anchor inn, of taking a 
“ pleasure trip ” at sea, a cHpper of sixteen guns, ready pro- 
visioned, was ready for him in the harbor. 

On the morning of the day appointed for the embarkation 
a great crowd followed the famous chief to the mole where 
a barge was waiting' to take him and his suite on board. 
Those Buccaneers whom he had selected for his crew gave 


318 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


vent to their noisy mirth. The rejected were silent and sad. 

Laurent, in his usual haughty and imperious manner, 
issued his orders from time to time until all was complete. 
“ Come, comrade, ” said he, turning to Malcolm, “ all is 
ready; let us go on hoard.” 

As Malcolm was about to descend the gangway steps of 
the jetty into the barge he heard a noise and stir among 
the crowd behind him. “What is the matter?” inquired 
he of a bystander. 

“ Why, that Laurent is luck personified,” said the person 
addressed. “His cruise will yield him millions. Here is 
Nativa coming to go with him. What luck, what luck ! ” 

While the man was yet speaking Nativa, followed by Jal- 
man, stood by Malcolm’s side. 

“You here, Nativa!” said Malcolm, with more sorrow than 
surprise. 

“ Did you think, my gallant knight,” said Nativa, with an 
arch and mischievous smile, “ that we were going to let you 
go alone ? Did you not expect me ? ” 

“ Indeed I did not,” said Malcolm. 

“What, when we took leave of you with such quiet in- 
difference ? ” said Nativa in a tone of half anger half sur- 
prise. “ You must have expected me back soon. You do 
not love me.” 

“Indeed I do, Nativa,” said Malcolm, “as a dear and 
treasured sister. That is why your resolution to share our 
dangers distresses me.” 

“ Come — all aboard 1 ” shouted the imperious voice of 
Laurent. Nativa sprang into the barge like a fawn ; Mal- 
colm followed her, and Jalman followed his master. 

“ Does that girl api)ear here as the response to the secret 
yearnings of my heart,” mused Laurent as he gazed upon 
her, “ or is it some new calamity fate has in store for me ? 
No matter. Nativa, Isabel, Malcolm and Laurent, all to- 
gether in one group, one scene, one act — there will be a 
comedy or a tragedy. No matter which — either will amuse 
me.” 


A hbvflation: 


319 ' 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

A REVELATION. 

For one week after the expedition commanded by Lau- 
rent left the island of Tortuga, time glided by on gilded 
wings. 

Each day and every hour Malcolm grew more and more 
attached to Xativa — he discovered in her some new personal 
grace, some superior mental quality. 

One great advantage his connection with Laurent gave 
him was a separation from the ship’« crew. Ordinarily, in 
Buccaneer expeditions, the whole crew fared alike and mess- 
ed in common. Except in the position of command and 
share of booty the meanest sailor was equal to the captain. 
But the haughty spirit and despotic will of Laurent would 
not brook this democratic custom. He established among 
his command the rigid discipline and severe etiquette of a 
man-of-war. Installed in his luxurious cabin he admitted 
none to his quarters or his table but Malcolm and Nativa. 

Since his frigate had been to sea no incident worth re- 
cording had transpired except that the signal quartermaster 
one day reported two large Spanish galleons in sight, and 
Laurent stood on his course without giving chase to these 
rich prizes. This indifference to booty did not appear to 
displease or disappoint the crew; it only proved to them 
that their chief was striking at higher game. 

One evening Laurent, Malcolm and Nativa, seated on the 
quarter deck, ajipeared to be contemplating the sunset at 
sea. But not one of these persons was thinking of that 
sublime spectacle before their eyes — the going down of the 
sun upon a tropical sea. They were all wrapt in their 
own meditations. Upon the face of Laurent there sat a 
cloud of passive melancholy. 


320 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


“ Comrade,” said he to Malcolm, “you are a favored mor- 
tal. The elements conspire in your favor. As long as I 
have cruised in these seas I have never seen in these lati- 
tudes such a succession of fair winds as we have now. In 
less than ten days, unless there is a great change, you will 
he in the presence of your lady-love.” 

Although these words, uttered by Laurent, were pre- 
sumed to be very agreeable to Malcolm, yet they gave him 
pain. 

As to Nativa, she turned pale and pressed her hand upon 
her heart. “What did you say, Laurent?” exclaimed she 
eagerly. And then as if ashamed of her vehemence, she 
smiled and added, “ It is only one of your stupid jokes, to 
frighten me.” 

“To frighten, Nativa ! ” exclaimed Laurent in deprecation. 
“Why and wherefore ? How could the prospective happiness 
of Sir Ismail Malcolm frighten you ? You, liis devoted Mend, 
should rejoice with him.” 

“ What ! is it then true, Ismail, that you love a woman ? ” 
said she in a voice broken by sobs. “ I — who thought you 
so noble, so good ! No, it cannot be.” Suffocated, as it 
were, by her emotions she was for a moment silent. 

“ Truly, Sir Ismail,” said she after a short struggle with 
herself, “ I cannot comprehend what has just come over me. 
It seems as if I had received a blow on my head. A cloud 
is over my eyes and bhnds me. I think that I Avas about to 
fall. Did I not say that I hated you ? No, I did not. Well, 
I thought it. What a strange thing. Such a piece of folly 
have I committed — why I cannot tell.” 

Malcolm, however unclaii-voyant he might have been in 
the mysteries of that puzzle, a woman’s heart, understood the 
cause of Nativa’s agitation; and this gave him indescribable 
pain. Embarrassed, agitated and knowing not what reply 
to make, he was conning over some way to give a turn to the 
conversation, when the vivacity and womanly tact of Nativa 
saved him the necessity. 


A REVELATION. 


321 


All, now I remember,” said she, “ that Laurent has just 
prophesied that if this fine weather continues that you will 
soon behold your true love. You have then another friend 
besides me. Is she young and pretty ? Why did you never 
tell me about her ? ” 

“ I thought, Nativa,” said Malcolm, with embarrassment, 
“ that the subject would not interest you — a woman who is 
a stranger to you.” 

“ What does that matter. Sir Ismail, since that woman 
loves you ?” exclaimed Nativa. “ Do you think that I can 
jilease her ? I will make every effort to be agreeable. She 
must be good at least.” 

“ Good, hke you, my sister,” said Malcolm. 

‘^It is astonishing what singular ideas a body has at 
times,” said Nativa. ‘‘I have fancied that she was .bad and 
ugly; and my first thought was to hate her. Is not that very 
foolish ? Decidedly I am not in my right mind to-night. I 
am suffering very much. The dampness of the night air 
seems to chill me to my very bones and freezes the blood in 
my veins. I believe I am going to weep.” 

“ Nativa,” said Laurent, gently taking her hand, “ cheer 
up. This indisposition will soon pass off. To-morrow 
morning you will be quite well again. It would be better 
for you to retire to your cabin. Lie down and get a httle 
sleep.” 

“ Thank you, for your kind advice,” said Nativa. ‘‘ How 
much you have improved. You are now very good to me — 
and better with the whole world. You are not hateful to 
me as you used to be.” 

At this naive and innocent prattle Laurent smiled, as 
Malcolm thought, a smile of triumph. This stung him. 

After Nativa retired there was a long and painful silence 
between the two men. Laurent was the first to break it. 

“ Sh Ismail,” said he, in a grave tone, different from the 
mocking and sarcastic raillery in which he usually indulged, 
“ an explanation, I plainly see, has become a thing of abso- 


322 . 


THE BUCCANEEBS. 


lute necessity between us. When I tendered you tlie posi- 
tion you occupy I enjoined upon you never to interrogate 
me upon my antecedents and I will honestly admit that you 
have never done so. Now it is my necessity to introduce 
the subject, and you will in a moment appreciate my motives 
for so doing. I come to the point without preface or pre- 
amble. My impetuous youth was darkened by one of those 
great calamities which in the morning of life turns its bright 
light into night ere it is day. Too haughty to bend, too j)roud 
to submit, too impatient to wait the healing effects of time, 
too skeptical of the consolations of religion, I launched up- 
on a course of life for which I was not destined and which 
I have followed with relentless energy and fury. Feeling 
a deep scorn for my race and believing that I could avenge my 
wrongs upon them, I have sought to give loose reins to my 
passions, to trample everything sacred under my feet, to 
make my might my right, my will my law. So far I have 
succeeded. I have made blood and gold flow like water. 
Whenever it would gratify the shghtest whim or caprice I 
have been pitiless and remorseless. To-day, whether from 
fatigue, ennui or remorse, I know not, I feel a desire to lead 
a new life, to return to the pale of humanity from which I 
have been outlawed. These words from my lips surprise 
you. Your astonishment is not greater than mine. I ask 
myself, am I not dreaming? I cannot realize such a singu- 
lar transformation. I have faith in the purity of Nativa — I 
love her.” 

“ How does all that concern me ?” was the rather petu- 
lant inquiry of Malcolm. 

“ Your petulance. Sir Ismail, proves that it touches you, 
if it does not concern you,” replied Laurent. “ It is self- 
evident to me that Nativa prefers you. But I am well as- 
sured that I will, sooner or later — more particularly as she 
has been advised of your passion for Isabel Sandoval — sup- 
plant you in her affections. You perceive that I am quite 
fi’ank on this delicate subject. I esteem you too highly to 


A REVELATION. 


323 


make myself liable to any charge of deception. Therefore 
I warn you that henceforth I will exert all my energies to 
win Nativa, and will use every means except violence or force 
to make her subject to my wishes.” 

“ To deceive a young girl, whose only fault may be to love 
too well the creature of her affections, an angel of jDnrity 
who confides in your honor, would be a base action un- 
worthy of a brave man,” said Malcolm; “and I warn you 
that I will baffle your designs by every means in my power.” 

“ Those words uttered by another mouth would have cost 
a life,” was the cool reply of Laurent, “but as you are my 
comrade now you can bandy epithets with perfect impunity; 
you cannot offend me. I submit meekly to your repri- 
mands.” 

This reply made Malcolm sensible of his imprudent zeal. 
“ You will make allowance, I hope,” said he, coloring, “ for 
the interest I feel in Najstiva’s wellfare.” 

“Interest indeed! Jealousy you mean,” said Laurent, 
with a smile. “ One word more. If you swear on your 
honor that you. renounce your love for Isabel Sandoval then 
I will withdraw from the list.” 

“ Kenounce Isabel Sandoval! ” exclaimed Malcolm. “Do 
you really mean wLat you say ? Do you nob know that Isa- 
bel represents for me the world impersonated; that if I 
seek fortune, glory, rank, ’tis not to aggrandize myself, but 
to be the more worthy of her. To obtain her hand I wiU 
dare all that man has ever dared; I will sacrifice all that the. 
heart treasures. If I disapprove of your designs on Nativa 
it is not dictated by jealousy. I would protect her as a 
sister. ’Tis her future happiness that I guard.” 

“A fine future, to be sure,” said Laurent ironically, “to 
find herself at the death of father Grey Beard without home, 
kindred, friend or fortune — the prize of the first lout of a 
Gourd Head that comes along. Many a high born dame 
would have given ten years of her life for the honor of be- 
ing what I intend to make Nativa. Nativa’s position will 
not be so much compromised as you would fain believe.” 


324 


THE BUGGANEERS. 


“ Promise me, then,” said Malcolm, “ never to resort to 
fraud or force.” 

“ I promise you that,” said Laurent, ‘‘without mental reser- 
vation or equivocation. When Nativa yields it shall be with 
her own free will and consent. She shall fully understand 
the character of the sacrifice she makes for me.” 

“Well, comrade,” said Malcolm, with a bright smile beam- 
ing upon his face, “ I am satisfied with that pledge. Nativa 
has now nothing to fear from you.” 

“You forget,” said Laurent, smiling in his turn, “that I 
have never yet failed to accomplish what I undertook; and I 
will add, for your farther instruction, that I have never de- 
sired anything so ardently as I do Nativa.” 

The next day after this conversation between these two 
men, Nativa remained until evening in her cabin. Many 
times, in passing her door, Malcolm heard stifled sobs. 


CHAPTER XXXYI. 

A DARIKG PKOJECT. 

During the remainder of the voyage Nativa was sad, 
silent and abstracted. Eor the greater part of the day she 
sought the solitude of her own cabin, and when on deck she 
hid herself as it were in the most retired part of the quarter 
deck. Her whole being appeared to be changed. 

Instead of that free and easy air, that joyous expression 
of a happy heart, reflecting its roseate glow upon her beau- 
tiful face which had heretofore invested her with such a 
charm, she was like some dark spirit, uncaverned, seeking its 
congenial darkness to hide its grief or shame. And what 
was still more remarkable, she fled or rather shrank from 
the presence of Malcolm. She trembled at the approach of 
his shadov/. 

At first mortified and then pained at her coldness, Mai- 


A DABIWG PROJECT. 


325 


colm resolved to have an explanation with her. His 
troubled conscience put an estopel upon the immediate exe- 
cution of his resolve. He felt instinctively that the sorrow 
which he had involuntarily indicted upon her was deep and 
abiding, and he scarcely knew whether to consider this rup- 
ture with her as fortunate or unfortunate for either or both. 

On the seventeenth day after their departure from the 
island of Tortuga (the Tortuga of the Antilles -the Spanish 
island of Tortuga is near the coast of South America), the 
Buccaneers arrived at the mouth of the river San Juan 
which connects the lake of Nicaragua with the Carribbean 
sea. Laurent then anchored and mustered his crew upon 
the quarter deck. The curiosity of his shipmates was 
excited to the highest degree ; there was a breathless silence 
until he spoke. 

“ My friends,” said he, “ the hour has come when I must 
make known to you the objective point of my expedition; 
and remember that if its audacity astonishes you, you were 
warned before you shipped that this cruise of mine should 
surpass the limits of all others in our history. The Spanish 
cities of the coast of America, menaced as they have been 
for years by our cruisers, are now strongly fortified and 
capable of resisting any large military or naval force. Span- 
ish merchant ships and galleons, terrified by the raids we 
have made upon their commerce from time to time, now 
never leave their ports unless convoyed by large fleets of 
armed vessels. At no period since the organization of the 
Buccaneers has booty been so difficult to get. Well, ship- 
mates, I wish to make up for lost time by one bold stroke. 
I wish to regain in one day all that you have lost in one 
year — in one hour to make you rich and independent.” 

At these words a magnetic thrill of joy convulsed the 
crew.’ Enthusiastic cheers of ^^Vive Laurent!^'' burst from 
their lips like the discharge of a park of artillery. When 
they became silent Laurent continued, ‘‘ My friends, my ob- 
ject is to take the city of Granada.” 


326 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


Although the moment of announcing the object of the 
expedition was admirably well chosen by Laurent, his crew, 
so little expecting such a revelation, were taken all aback. 
Enthusiasm was replaced by astonishment. A deathlike 
silence reigned on deck. 

‘‘ My friends,” continued Laurent, your gallantry, accus- 
tomed as I am to daring deeds, has surpassed my expecta- 
tions. But I have feared that while ignorant of the details 
and precautions which must render the success of our expedi- 
tion infallible, its ostensible temerity would startle and appall 
you. But by your serene countenances and cool deportment 
I see that I have misjudged you and deceived myself 
Friends, before four days Tolls by you will bend under the 
weight of your booty and the golden rain will pour in show- 
ers upon this deck. Then we will take our holiday in 
Kingston, Jamaica, where there are a plenty of pretty Eng- 
lish girls and good cheer. Our visit will be a carnival, 
our entry a triumph long to be remembered. Vive la Bou° 
caniere ! ” 

Inspired by the words of their chief, the seductive picture 
of the animal enjoyments that awaited success, the booty 
they were about to grasp, the electrified Buccaneers forgot 
their doubts and apprehensions and joined in chorus with a 
deafening cheer the enthusiasm so adroitly fanned by 
their chief. 

From this moment an impatient and burning ardor to seize 
their prey pervaded the ship’s crew. Kot one of them 
would have sold his share of the ^prospective prize money 
for two thousand pounds sterling. And it must be borne 
in mind that the eighty men who composed that crew were 
the elite of Buccaneer chivalry. 

The next day at dawn the frigate entered the mouth of 
the river San Juan, and ascended that stream to its junction 
with lake Nicaragua — that beautiful inland sea of Central 
America, the subject of so many political embroglios, the 
pons asinorum of so many bungling diplomats and the grave 


A DAmJVG PROJECT. 327 

of more ambitious but less daring adventurers than Laurent, 
the Buccaneer. 

Coade, who was acquainted with the localities, piloted 
the ship. He had guaranteed on his life that he would navi- 
gate the ship into port. 

Upon entering the lake Laurent, who knew how to unite 
craft with daring, changed the appearance of the frigate into 
that of a merchantman. This transformation was thoroughly 
and quickly done, and the disguise was complete. The 
guns were hauled on board and the battery ports closed ; a 
Spanish flag was run up to the peak and floated treacherously 
on the breeze, and but few seamen were allowed to be seen 
on deck or in the rigging. 

The next day Granada was visible, and the Buccaneers ran 
into one of those naiTow coves or indentations in the rim 
of the basin of the lake enclosed on three sides by precipi- 
tous walls of rock, overarched like the roof of a tunnel by 
those enormous shade trees so peculiar to the tropics, where 
discovery was improbable if not impossible, and there waited 
for night to come. When the sun went down the Spanish 
merchantman was transformed into a Buccaneer frigate, and 
steered for Granada so as to arrive there at midnight, when 
the inhabitants were sleeping. 

Several times since the morning Nativa had made an abor- 
tive efibrt to approach Malcolm for an interview. Finally, 
about sunset, she collected all her energies to a focus and 
called him as he was passing near her. “ Sir Ismail,” said 
she, in a voice so broken by emotion that it was scarcely 
audible, “ will you sit by me a moment ? I wish to speak 
to you.” 

By the eagerness with which Malcolm obeyed, and the 
blush which crimsoned his cheek, it was evident that the re- 
quest gave him both mingled pain and pleasure. 

“ What is your pleasure, my sweet sister ? ” said Malcolm, 
as he seated himself by her side. 

“ What a strange effect your voice produces on me ! ” said 


328 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


Kativa, pressing her forehead with the palm of her hand. 
“ It makes me ill. Still I yearn to hear it.” 

Kativa, after musing for a moment, and then turning her 
eyes swimming in tears to Malcolm, continued, “ Sir Ismail, 
we will shortly reach Granada. The Spaniards are brave 
and will defend their homes. Who knows but what you will 
be killed in the assault upon the city ? ” 

“ So mote it be, Kativa. Death will be welcome,” said 
Malcolm, bitterly. 

“ What is that you say ? ” exclaimed Kativa, grasping his 
hand with a passionate impulse. “ Sir Ismail, I entreat you 
talk not so. It forbodes evil. Why should you wish to 
die? You, in the prime of youth, beautiful and noble — 
none can behold you without feeling themselves attracted 
towards you — your life must be happy.” 

“ K one can behold me without feeling themselves attracted 
towards me ! ” said Malcolm, in bitter irony. “ Lo, the proof 
of that, for the last eight days you have fled my presence 
without caring to conceal the horror with which my presence 
inspires you.” 

“ It was to ask your forgiveness that I called you,” said 
Kativa. “ You inspire me with horror I You well know 
that it is impossible.” 

“ How can you otherwise explain your conduct ? ” said 
Malcolm. 

“ I cannot tell, indeed,” said Kativa, earnestly. When 
you are not near me I feel an unaccountable sadness — my 
spirit makes you bodily and tangibly visible to me as in a 
dream. I touch you; I see you. You speak and I hear 
you. In those moments I love you so that I would sacrifice 
my life to sparp you one pang. But when by chance you 
come near me, my heart is closed against you, tears come in 
my eyes— they pain me and I suffer intensely. I reason with 
myself and say, I ought to be happy— he is near me. But I 
am most unhappy. You are not the same that my spirit has 
Seen. Your brow is dark and your eyes are turned away. 


A DARING PROJECT. 


329 


I feel that you are laughing at my ignorance, and that I ap- 
pear foolish and ridiculous in your sight, and that you des- 
pise me. After all, you are not so far wrong. I was unjust 
to expect too much of you. I should never have left my 
native forest. I am — I know it and feel it — ^inferior to those 
city ladies with whom you have associated.” 

The stricken girl was silent for a moment, and then, with 
the voice of a pleading angel, continued, “ Forgive me, I 
pray you, Sir Ismail, the coldness I have exhibited towards 
you. W ould you know all ? I believe that an evil spirit 
has cast a spell over me. My illness — ^for such it must be — 
was too sudden to be the result of natural causes. Do you 
remember the evening when you, Laurent and myself were 
conversing together on the quarter deck ? Then it was that 
the spirit of evil cast that spell upon me. The negroes are 
right in saying that there are evil spirits. But I thought 
that the Holy Virgin would protect me from them. I have 
prayed to her without ceasing, but my suffering continues 
undiminished — far from it. Nevertheless, my object is your 
forgiveness. The. idea that if you were killed to-night, you 
would die in the belief that I was indifferent to you after 
having sworn to love you ever — and that thought makes me 
wretched. You will forgive me then, will you not?” 

“ If I pardon you, my sweet sister, my angelic Nativa,” 
exclaimed Malcolm, it is but to say I worship you — I 
love you dearly.” 

“ But not as you love that Spanish girl of Granada,” quick- 
ly chimed in Nativa, with a glittering eye, gathering brow 
and heaving bosom. 

‘‘ Yes, Nativa; as much as I do that Spanish girl of Gra- . 
nada. You have all my friendship and she all my love.” 

This reply appeared to make a deep impression upon 
Nativa. 

“ Then there are many kinds of love ? ” said she, with a 
musing, pensive air. “ Oh, how I detest my ignorance. I 
ought to be happy in the thought that you regard me as 


330 


TEE BTTGGAEEER8. 


your sister. But notwithstanding I suffer as I never have 
believed any one could suffer. Sir Ismail, I entreat you to 
leave me. I love you truly ; but the spell of that evil spirit 
is upon me now, and the sight of you pains me.” 

Malcolm left her in silence. He felt that to reply with 
words to the outpourings of a passion so ardent, so pure — 
the depth of which she herself was ignorant — would be 
sacrilege. 

“ Oh, that I could behold that beautiful maid of Granada 
this night,” murmured Nativa, as she followed Malcolm’s re- 
treating form with her eyes. 

About ten o’clock that night, the tenth of October, 1689, 
everything was arranged and ready for disembarkation; and 
Laurent invited Malcolm into his cabin for a private confer- 
ence. 

Sir Ismail,” said he, “ as we are now alone I will not dis- 
guise from you that I am about to commit a very rash and 
foolhardy action. Nevertheless, I flatter myself that the 
audacity of the expedition is its sti'ongest, best assurance of 
success. It is impossible that the people of Granada, sit- 
uated thirty leagues from the coast, should ever dream 
of being attacked by Buccaneers. I depend a great deal 
upon the superstitious terror our appearance will create 
among them. But as I never leave anything to chance I 
will repeat my orders for the assault. We will land in three 
divisions — each division will consist of twenty men, and 
twenty will remain on board to guard the frigate. Our 
point of concentration will be the cathedral square. If we 
do not carry the city by surprise— by the aid of the chart 
Coade has furnished us the routes we pursue are very plain 
— our three assaulting columns operating so as to form three 
sides of a triangle can enlarge or contract according to the 
front the enemy displays. After landing our three barges 
will be carried by men detailed for the purpose up to the 
hejid of the bay or arm of the lake in the rear of the deserted 
faubourg Santa Engracia. That will give us a safe retreat 


A DARING PROJECT. 


331 


in case the Spaniards repulse us, which I do not think at all 
probable. It is on that faubourg we must retreat in case of 
repulse ; each commander must take his column there by the 
most direct route. IST ow, comrade, one word more, and that 
word is to me the most important of all. I have the most 
exalted opinion of your personal bravery and your coolness 
in danger, and I am thoroughly convinced from the plans 
you have submitted to me and the observations you have 
made in reference to the assault, that you have been born to 
command. But what I do not know and what I most 
ardently desire to know is, can I depend upon your obedi- 
ence? A divided command is the parent of defeat. And, 
Sir Ismail, in the name of the salvation of the brave men 
who have blindly followed us in this cruise, I ask that you 
promise unconditional obedience to my orders even if you 
do not understand their tenor and import or disapprove of 
them. Upon your implicit obedience depends, in a great 
measure, our success. Assured of obedience I know how to 
command. What say you ? ” 

“ I say, comrade,” said Malcolm, “ that upon the honor of 
a gentleman, I will obey your orders absolutely, blindly and 
unconditionally.” 

“ Then Granada is mine,” said Laurent. 


332 


THE BUCCANEERS, 


CHAPTEK XXXYIL 

PASSION AND INNOCENCE. 

Laueent, upon leaving Malcolm, went to the door of Xa* 
tiva’s cabin, and knocked for admission. But she, lying in 
her hammock, absorbed in her gloomy reflections, did not 
hear the summons and he, after waiting a short time, opened 
the door and entered. 

The heart of the Buccaneer was not so brutalized as he 
had supposed. Upon perceiving Xativa he halted and hesr 
tated, before he crossed the threshold of that sanctuary of 
beauty and innocence. 

Xone of those semi-nude statues of an elder time and 
more artistic race could have exhibited such physical beauty 
and grace as the pose of that musing and contemplative 
girl. Her classical brow rested upon her semiflexed left 
arm, while Her right lay recumbent by her side. Whether it 
was that she succumbed to the heat of the atmosphere or to 
the pressure of her agitating reminiscences, Xativa, not ex- 
pecting any intrusion upon her privacy, had disrobed herself 
of all her clothes except a light muslin chemise which the 
Creole ladies wear in their chambers. Her unbound hair 
fell in all its splendid profusion upon her marble neck, shoul- 
ders and bosom. Extended as she was in her grass ham- 
mock, through the open meshes of which her nude beauty 
could be seen in all its physical perfection, Xativa presented 
the most seductive physique a voluptuous artist could have 
conceived. Laurent stood some seconds gazing in ecstasy 
at this tableau, upon which a wax candle, in a canvas lantern, 
shed a mellow light in the partially darkened cabin. 

“Nativa,” murmured he, in a low tone, at length. 

‘‘Who is there?” exclaimed Xativa, gathering with in- 
stinctive modesty her long flowing hair over her bosom*. 


PASSION AND INNOGENGE, ^33 

Oh, it is you — Laurent ! What do you want ? Is it time 
to go ? ” 

“Not yet, Nativa,” said Laurent. “A short time ago I 
heard your parting words with Sir Ismail in case he was 
killed, and as I too may fall in battle I came to make my 
, adieus also.” 

These words were received by Nativa with some mani- 
festations of surprise. 

“You love me, then?” said she, carelessly. 

“Yes, Nativa; I love you. ^ ^ 

“ As a sister, or that other kind of love Sir Ismail was 
telling me about ? ” 

“I love you as a lover,” exclaimed Laurent with passion- 
ate emphasis. 

“ As a lover ! ” said Nativa, repeating the words as though 
she sought to' catch the meaning by the sound. “Why — 
what difference can there be between the love of a brother 
and the love of a lover ? ” 

To this question, uttered with all the naive and unaffected 
innocence of simple curiosity, the Buccaneer chief hesitated 
to reply. 

That man, so terrible in battle, who guided the storm of 
carnage in all its fury, beneath whose glance the bravest of 
the brave quailed ; he, who, to nobly born dames reared in 
the lap of luxury and power, was haughty, cynical and dis- 
dainful, wLose blasphemous irony, like the withering breath 
of the sirocco, blasted all things pure and holy, felt himself 
embarrassed at this question — an arch fiend recoiling from 
the eye of innocence. 

“ Ah, well,” continued N" tiva after waiting for a reply, 
“ you answer me not. 1 ou, too, are amusing yourself at 
my ignorance.” 

“Nativa, I tremble,” said Laurent, in a hoarse whisper, as 
if this confession, wrung from unwilling lips, stung his morti- 
fied self-love to the quick. 

“You tremble, Laurent — why so ? ” 


334 


THE BUCCANEERS, 


“I tremble, Nativa,” continued he, “lest in lifting with 
too rude a hand that veil of innocence that clothes you with 
angelic beauty and purity, I commit a sacrilege and a crime.’’ 

“I do not understand you, Laurent,” said I^^ativa. 

“ In fact, it must be done sooner or later; it cannot always 
be so,” said Laurent, vehemently, as if speaking to himself; 
and then continued in a milder tone, after a pause, “You 
have asked me, bTativa, what is the difference between the 
love of a brother and the love of a lover ? ” 

“Yes, Laurent,” said iN’ativa, now shrinking in her turn 
from the eye of the Buccaneer. “But if my question was 
indiscreet— and if your desires involve more than I ought to 
know — it is unnecessary to enter into explanations which 
would only make me blush at my ignorance.” 

“Nativa,” said Laurent, “it is only to read the book of 
nature, to have youth, passions, a living soul, a breathmg 
heart. Fraternal affection is a feeling so calm, so serene, 
that it permits the heart to be free, independent, without 
envy, care or strife. A sister separated from her brother, 
readily accommodates herself to the situation. When she 
sees him again she is pleased, satisfied. But neither presence 
or absence troubles her dreams by night or intrudes upon 
her meditations by day; she is scarcely conscious of either. 
When he returns home after a long absence, she rejoices — 
but that is all. A brother is often bored with the presence 
of his sister ; he replies to her words with his lips, but not 
with his heart — that is elsewhere. Does a brother require 
the fortune of his sister, or she his arm, his courage, she as 
readily gives her gold as he his blood, because it is each 
other’s duty to do so. But neither one or the other feel 
any devotion in the sacrifice they make.” 

“Enough — enough! No more, Laurent,” exclaimed Na- 
tiva, abruptly. “ Is that love Sir Ismail feels for me, cold, 
heartless, forced — blase, ennuied, as you call it ? Do his 
thoughts wander when he is near me ? Does he feel tired, 
jaded, in my society? Are his words the mere intonations 


PASJSIOJV AND INNOCENCE. 


335 


of his lips? No, never. I cannot, will not, believe it. 
You fancy that you are amusing yourself at my credulity — 
making game of me. It is very unkind.” 

“Nativa,” replied Laurent, vehemently, “I swear to you 
that I speak the truth — what I have learnt from experience.” 

“ The love of a lover,” said Nativa, interrupting him again. 
“ Are you acquainted with it ? Have you ever felt it ; 
Can you describe it ? ” 

“Yes, Nativa; for that love I feel for you.” 

“You love me as a lover then, do you? Well, go on. 
I am listening.” 

The Buccaneer then seating himself in a chair by the side 
of her hammock and taking her hand, went on to say, 
“ My fair girl, love is a -passion unlike all others from the 
mom.ent it has made its captive. You have but one world 
and that world is the object you love. One smile from the 
beloved transports you to such a pitch of beatitude, so flat- 
ters your self-love, that you doubt the existence of evil on 
earth. You look down with a commiserating pity upon the 
lot of all others, who know not yom* happiness, in propor- 
tion as that smile exalts you to the seventh heaven. So also 
a word misinteiq^reted, a petulant gesture, or a look of care- 
less indifterence plunges you into the deepest despair. 
Then you no longer believe in happiness on earth — ^that life 
is but a sad and dreary halt betAveen death and annihilation 
— the beginning of hell — you Aveep — ^you lament — your 
thoughts turn to suicide.” 

“That is true,” said Nativa, pensively. ‘But continue, 
Laurent.” 

“ As the bright rays of the sun disperse the dark cloud of 
night, the most insignificant act of kindness from your lady- 
love dissipates the gloom which but a moment previous you 
considered boundless, eternal. Then cursing your unjust 
suspicions you cannot make reparation enough for your in- 
justice, and often carry this to a ridiculous extreme; and 
finally love differs from friendship in tliis, that your devc- 


336 


THE BUGCANEEES. 


tion to your love gives you the most voluptuous sensations 
of delight while it has all the grandeur of self-sacrifice. 
As to the joys of love, they are so vivid that human tongues 
cannot describe them in human words. To behold your 
love, bound to you by the magnetism of passion while her 
reason warns her to flee your presence, to clasp her unre- 
sisting in your arms, with heaving bosom and palpitating 
heart, is but a taste of that hapj)iness — the prolongation of 
which must constitute the life of the blessed in heaven.” 

Laurent was inspired by the bright picture he had drawn. 
His eyes betrayed what his lips, sealed by involuntary re- 
spect for Hativa’s innocence, dared not utter. 

By degrees he had drawn nearer and nearer to her, 
and when he had ceased speaking, his arm encircled her 
waist. 

“Leave me! Leave me!” exclaimed Hativa, springing 
from her hammock. “ Why do you glare at me with those 
eyes? What harm have I done you? You frighten me. 
Go away I ” 

“ jSTativa,” said the Buccaneer, in a hoarse whisper, “ I feel 
for you that love I have just described. If you will love me 
I — Laurent — will be your slave. I will bend my pride to 
your caprices. I will lay my life, my fortune, at your feet. 
Every unexpressed wish of your heart shall be anticipated. 
I will wield my power to gratify your behests, let them be 
Avhat they may. You shall dispose of me as you list. I 
will be your goods, chattels — I repeat it, your slave.” The 
eyes of the Buccaneer wandered over the face and form of 
the beautiful girl. 

“ My God, how I love you ! ” said he, as he pressed his 
lips to her brow. 

At the touch of his lips HatiVa uttered a shriek of despair 
and then, finding in that despair one of those singular and 
indescribable powers of physical strength that sometimes 
come to human weakness in desperate m-oraents, she burst 
with one strong bound from the arms of the Buccaneer, and 


PASSIOJSr AJSfJD INNOCENCE, 337 

chouted with all the strength and force of her lungs, “ Help, 
Ismail, help ! ” 

This act of ISTativa’s instantly transformed Laurent. The 
fire of his eyes went out, his fiery cheek became deathly 
l^ale, a bitter and sinister smile crimped his lips. 

“ It is useless, Nativa,” said he, “to call upon Sir Ismail. 
His presence here now might induce me to commit an un- 
necessary crime. I am calm, Hativa. Why should I per- 
sist ? It is evident that you love me not. You shrink with 
loathing from my touch. Let it be so. It appears that I 
was not born to be loved as other men. But if I was born 
to suffer, I was also born with strength to bear my sorrows. 
Farewell, Nativa.” 

Laurent then left the cabin with a serene countenance and 
firm step. 

“What I wish, shall sooner or later be accomplished,’’ 
muttered he, as he ascended to the quarter deck. “ NTativa 
shall he mineN 

Scarcely had Laurent closed the door of her cabin behind 
him, when Hativa turned the key in the lock and threw her- 
self bathed, in tears, on her hammock. “ My God I what 
have I learned?” muttered she, vainly endeavoring to 
staunch the sobs that, despite her efforts, burst from her 
breast. “ I know now what they mean by that word love. 
But never can I bear the thought that Ismail Malcolm can 
never see in me anything but a — sister.” 

After a long fit of tears she arose, put on her Buccaneer 
costume, and examined her carbine. “ Holy Virgin,” she 
ejaculated, “ grant that a bullet may strike me dead this 
night. Heath is welcome, but not until I have seen with my 
eyes that beautiful maid of Granada, who has captured the 
heart of him I love.” 

Wiping away her tears, she ascended to the quarter deck. 
At that moment the barges were manned. Malcolm em- 
barked in one, and Hativa followed him. 

These barges, keeping in the shadow of those gigantic 


338 


THE BUUGANEEES. 


shade trees which fringed the border of the lake, reached 
the city of Granada without discovery. 

The Buccaneers, each armed with one of those long Buc- 
caneer rifles so fatal in their expert hands, two pair of pis- 
tols and a cutlass, were divided into three divisions ; and after 
landing the barges were taken to the designated rallying 
point in case of repulse by the Spaniards. 

Shipmates,” said Laurent to them, before they separated 
to take their parallel lines of concentration upon the cathe- 
dral square, “ in two hours hence you will return with your 
sacks filled with gold. It is essential to our success that no 
alarm be given. Gag and bind all who surrender without 
resistance, and no quarter to those who do resist. By no 
means use your firearms except in the last extremity, and 
then only in regular battle order.. Until then your cutlasses 
are sufiicient. I will go ahead to secure your entrance into 
the city. You will wait for me concealed in this grove, and 
in a quarter of an hour I will return. If anything happens 
to me, Sir Ismail Malcolm will take command. He has re- 
ceived ample instructions — he will lead you to victory.” 


CHAPTER XXXVIII 

THE ASSAULT. 

Laureht, accompanied by a veteran Buccaneer, one of the 
best seamen in the frigate, pursued his way to the city gate. 
They had not gone far in that direction when they were 
hailed by a sentinel with the challenge, Who comes there ? ” 
A friend,” replied Laurent in the purest Castilian. 

“Who are you and whence come you?” inquired the sol- 
dier. 

“We are fishermen, and just coming from our nets,” was 
the reply. 

“ Pass on,” said the unsuspecting sentinel. 


THE ULT, 


339 


Laurent and liis companion continued to advance with 
their regular wayfarer’s tramp until they were within a few 
feet of the sentry, and then Laurent, with the spring of a 
tiger, seized him hy the throat and, ere he could utter a cry, 
something flashed in the air as with his right hand he 
plunged his long sharp knife to the hilt in the heart of the 
Spanish soldier, who fell dead without a sound upon the soft, 
yielding sand. 

Laurent then pursued his way. 

Spain, which at one time could boast of the best and most 
formidable infantry in the world, now could only produce 
combatants, but no soldiers. Their natural indolence and 
aversion to military discipline will ever debar the Spaniards 
from attaining that discipline which is the indispensable 
requisite of permanent military success ; and Laurent, wdio 
had in early youth been in the Spanish service, thoroughly 
understood the character and habits of those who dwelt in 
the city which he was about to carry by a night assault. 

He was not surprised to find the two sentinels posted at the 
city gate in sound sleep. These sluggards had transferred 
their responsibility to the outlying picket, who was then 
stiffening in death from the wound he had received from 
Laurent. 

Laurent then returned to his command, and in a few 
words made them acquainted with the situation and posi- 
tion. 

The three divisions advanced quickly and silently over 
the noiseless sand soil. The sleeping soldiers were seized, 
gagged and bound before they were well awake. And the 
Buccaneers entered the silent city of Granada at midnight, 
when the population were sleeping. 

The three Buccaneer columns traversed the silent and 
empty streets and effected their junction in the cathedral 
square, as noiseless as three dark clouds rolling through space 

without awakening a solitary sleeper or meeting a belated 

straggler — and then they separated upon diverging lines to 


340 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


other quarters of the city, to seize the commanding posi- 
tions. And then Granada was, like the sleeping soldiers at 
the gate, bound hand and foot ere any of her sleeping peo- 
ple knew that their dread enemy, the Buccaneers, was 
within a thousand leagues of their home. Coade then 
pointed out the richest churches and the houses of the most 
wealthy merchants, and he was suffered to go away. 

Malcolm was now in a perplexing dilemma. If on one 
hand he felt a delirious joy at the thought of seeing Isabel 
Sandoval, on the other he trembled at the possibility, indeed 
probability, that the daughter of the haughty count of Mon- 
terey would regard him with horror when she learnt that 
his visit to her was in conjunction with the sack of the beau- 
tiful city in which she dwelt, and would flee his presence as 
that of a fiend. 

The young soldier sought to convince himself that the 
surprise of Granada was but a simple act of war, in retalia- 
tion for the many -raids the Spaniards had made upon 
English and French colonies, and that the percentage 
levied upon the booty by the king of France gave a national 
sanction to the expedition of Laurent. But in spite of ail 
these specious arguments the young adventurer could but 
blush at the position in which he found himself. His 
only consolation was that Isabel would see in his conduct 
what was strictly true, that he employed the only means at 
his disposal to obey the summons contained in her letter 
sent by Coade. 

The eighteen Buccaneers who remained with Laurent and 
Malcolm (the two who -were detached to take the empty 
barges around to the faubourg Santa Engracia, were taken 
from this squad) were not long inactive. One of them 
knocked at the door of the cathedral — under the pretext of 
seeking the aid of a priest for a dying man. The sacristan, 
accustomed to such summons, opened the door without sus- 
picion of danger. He was instantly felled, gagged and 
bound, and the Buccaneers entered this gorgeous temple 


THE ASSAULT. 


341 


of Catholic worship. A chandelier of solid silver, weighing 
several tons, pendant from the dome over the nave, with its 
hundreds of wax lights, lighted the whole interior of the 
church and revealed at one glance the sacred treasures of 
gold and jewels that lay in all their glittering splendors upon 
the altar, to the profane eyes of men who believed in noth- 
ing but gold and who had but one object in life, booty. 
Each sprang with delirious joy to gather with sacrilegious 
hands, the sacred gold, and to rifle the sanctuary of its ac- 
cumulated treasures of ages. 

“ Comrade,” said Malcolm to Laurent, “ our shipmates 
have work enough to detain them here for some time. 
The house of Isabel Sandoval was pointed out to me by 
Coade ; it is but a few paces from the cathedral, I will go 
there.” 

“ Remain where you are,” was the abrupt and imperious 
order of his superior. “ I require you here, as I am about 
to go away for a short time.” 

“ But, Laurent,” remonstrated the snubbed subaltern, 
“ reflect that we may be discovered at any moment. It can- 
not be otherwise. Think how it would disappoint me to 
leave Granada without seeing Isabel.” 

“ Sir Ismail Malcolm,” replied Laurent, “ I dislike repeti- 
tion, and hate arguments. You have pledged unconditional 
obedience — ^and I say, remam here in command until my 
return.^'' 

Laurent then stalked away, leaving his impatient subordi- 
nate a prey to all the bitter pangs of mortification and dis- 
appointment. 

One moment more the Buccaneer chief, followed by two 
of his men, knocked at the door of a palatial residence 
that fronted upon the cathedral square. It was there that 
Isabel Sandoval dwelt. 

Quickly the patois of a negro slave demanded what they 
wanted. 

“ Open in the name of the king,” was the reply. 


342 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


As these words were spoken the door revolved on its 
hinges and the Buccaneer entered. 

The slave, seeing a stranger armed to the teeth, started 
back affrighted, and gasped as if to give vent to a yell. 

“Not a word or a breath,’’ said Laurent, drawing and 
cocking one of his pistols, “ or you die. I am a Buccaneer 
from Tortuga. Granada is in my power. Conduct me to 
your mistress, the lady Isabel Sandoval.” 

The sight of a Buccaneer always carried terror to the 
hearts of the Spaniards, and the negroes, more super- 
stitious than their masters, regarded them as supernatural 
beings, whom neither promises or threats could induce to 
resist. 

The slave of the count of Monterey, trembling in every 
joint, conducted this dread visitor from Tortuga to the door 
of the lady Isabel’s apartment. 

“ While I have an interview with your mistress,” said he 
to the slave, “remain here outside the door, Understand 
that I can see you through the walls and at the slightest 
attempt to escape I will kill you.” 

The large white teeth of the negro chattered with fright. 
With bending body and crossed Uands he promised, what 
his voiceless tongue failed to do, obedience. 

Although it was one o’clock in the morning, Isabel San- 
doval had not yet retired to her bed. Seated in one of 
those large velvet cushioned, armed rocking chairs, so char- 
acteristic of the indolent habits of the tropics, she was sim- 
ply indulging in one of those half waking, half sleeping 
reveries so peculiar to her. As the chair gently swung its 
fair occupant in its undulating motions — so deep was that 
reverie — she heard not the footsteps of the Buccaneer as he 
entered. . 

Laurent, with folded arms and mocking smile gazed upon 
the beautiful Spanish girl. “ She is really grand and pecu- 
liar in her beauty,” thought he ; “ of an Olympic type, far 
superior to that of Nativa, But how does it happen that 


THE ASSAULT. 343 

Isabel’s beauty fascinates me not ? Why am I so indifferent 
to her ? Indeed, why do I despise her ? ” 

He then advanced a few paces and raising his voice said, 
“Isabel Sandoval, of Monterey, you have sent for me — ^here 
I am. What do you want ? ” 

At the sound of that voice, as startling as the archangel’s 
trump in the dead of night or a clap of thunder in a clear 
sky, Isabel Sandoval uttered a half gasp of a shriek and 
attempted to rise ; but her limbs were as powerless as her 
tongue. She fell back listless in her chair as though she 
would swoon. 

“ Compose yourself, Isabel, dear,” said he, with sarcastic 
sympathy. “You are acting, not dreaming. It is truly 
the robber, the brigand, Laurent, as you call men of my 
nationality now before you. Do you love me as ever? 
Must I congratulate myself upon woman’s constancy or 
curse the fickleness of the sex ? ” 

Isabel was so agitated that she did not observe the bit- 
ter irony of the tone and the biting sarcasm or understand 
the tenor and import of the words she heard so distinctly. 
But by degrees this haughty daughter of a princely race 
recovered her dignity, if not her composure. Clasping her 
hands and raising her glowing black eyes, swimming in tears 
and beaming with gratitude to . heaven, she exclaimed, 
^'‘Merciful God^ you luwe heard my prayer ! 

There was in that ejaculation such a fervent pathos that 
even the skeptical and cynical Laurent felt a twinge of re- 
morse. But it was momentary. Anon a cold and scornful 
smile parted his cynical lips and a slight frown contracted his 
brow. His features otherwise were impassive. 

“ Well, lady,” said he, “ must I repeat my question ? You 
have sent for me- — here I am — what do you want ? ” 

“First and foremost, Laurent,” said Isabel, “tell me, does 
not your presence here expose you to great danger ? How 
did you come here ? ” 

“ Simply by taking Granada, lady.” 


344 


THE BUGGANEERS. 


“ Taking Granada ! ” exclaimed Isabel. “ Why, what do 
” those words mean ? ” 

“ They mean,” said Laurent, “ that my jolly rovers of the 
sea are now very conscientiously, employed in sacking the 
city of Granada,” 

“ Oh, Laurent,” said Isabel, in a tone of tender reproach, 
“ is it thus you come to me ? ” 

“ What would you have me do, lady ? ” replied the Buc* 
caneer. “ A poor man can only do his beet. My modesty 
is proverbial — all the world knows that bragging is not my 
forte — ^but I mu,st say that to take a city by assault in order 
to have an interview with your lady love, is at least a gallant 
action — something above the common order of things.” 

“ Then you love me dearly ? ” said Isabel, with all that im- 
pulsive vehemence so peculiar to the fair daughters of the 
sunny south. 

“ N ot at all,” was the cool reply of the Buccaneer. “ I 
am a gentleman by birth and education, and it is customary 
with men of my rank always to yield to the wishes of the 
ladies, however capricious and unreasonable they may be. 
You wrote to me to come to you — and here I am.” 

At these cruel words, and the more cruel coolness with 
which they were uttered, Isabel, the haughty beauty, wilted. 
But soon she smiled as women only can smile, tenderly and 
reproachfully. 

“ Why, Laurent,” said she, “ do you persist in humbling 
my pride ? Have you not trampled upon my bleeding heart 
long enough ? You do not, you cannot, know how deep, de- 
voted and self-sacrificing my love for you is — interrupt me 
not until I have unsealed the flood-gates of my heart — I 
have lived within myself long enough. I will conceal noth- 
ing; you shall know all.” 

Isabel was silent for a moment, as if to collect her ideas 
or gather strength, and then went on with pa'ssionate vehe- 
mence : “ My own Laurent, if you possess my heart’s whole 

and undivided affection, it is not because you are strong. 


THE ASSAULT 


345 


beautiful and brave. ISTo — the tic that first bound me to 
you, in spite of my efforts to the contrary, was pity. With 
a woman’s instinct I saw that you had suffered much and 
was suffering more, and my imagination reconstructed your 
past. I saw you in all the pride and beauty of joyous youth 
cruelly betrayed, and your noble heart crushed by the black- 
est ingratitude ; and then came the thought that I was des- 
tined to bind up those bleeding wounds and took possession 
of my soul. The magnanimous manner with which you treated 
my father and myself when we were your prisoners, your deli- 
cate attention to all of our wants, the respect you compelled 
the bandits under your command to pay us, your contempt 
of danger and life, all — even to your haughtiness, which 
proved a noble birth — conspired against my weakness. My 
pity became love. And now, Laurent, I must make a mor- 
tifying confession. The letter you addressed to me, and 
which I received after we separated, every line was an in- 
sult, every word opened the woundg of a deeply wounded 
spirit that loved you, and outraged the personal pride of a 
woman, and that woman a daughter of one of Spain’s princely 
nobles. Y our indifference, your cruel desertion — pardon the 
expression — your cruel desertion and more cruel indifference, 
made me a fiend. I thought of nothing but vengeance. You 
know what creatures of impulse we Sj)aniards are. Wg 
love as we hate, and hate as we love, with all the energies 
of our hearts, souls and bodies. Ruled by that one idea of 
vengeance for my wrongs, I used all the means that God 
and man put into my hands for that purpose. I called to 
my aid the hatred which the count of Monterey as a man 
and a Spaniard feels for the Buccaneers of the Antilles, I 
sought the alliance of all your enemies. Ah, Laurent, blame 
not. Was not the zeal I displayed in the work of vengeance 
but a proof how deeply I had loved ? But when I reached 
my home here in the New World and breathed once more 
the perfumed air of this western Paradise, my hatred, like 
the spirit of evil, vanished as if by enchantment. The 


346 


TEE BUCCANEERS. 


memory of the brighter hours and happier days spent with 
you wiped out that dark spot on memory’s waste. The 
motive that must have induced you to reject my love flashed 
upon me. I wept for my blindness.” 

“ Will you be so kind as to let that motive ^ flash ’ upon 
me ? ” said Laurent, with the same cool and bitter irony. 

“ That you, Laurent, were simply sounding the depth of 
my love and proving my sincerity. Rendered suspicious and 
distrustful by the treachery of others, you probably argued, 
this lady is the daughter of a noble house^ her hand is 
sought by many noble arid princely suitors^ she p)Ossesses in 
her own right the dower of a princess^ she thinJcs that in 
sharing her future with me she has fairly purchased me. If 
she lores me let her prove it in such a manner., that if she 
should ever reproach herself for marrying an adventurer 
like me., I can say., ‘ Madam, you were the suitor, not I, 
who simply received your proposals.’ That has been your 
idea. It has the merit and pride of haughtiness, and I ap- 
prove of it. My position must teach me humility. You 
must jiardon my wealth. My beloved, your presence here 
now proves to me the honesty of your intentions. I know 
also that many obstacles yet separate us, but I know also 
that your will is supreme, and that what you will, will be 
done. If to-morrow you would say to the Spanish govern- 
ment, ‘ I, Laurent, the invincible and terrible enemy of your 
power, will enter the service of Spain,’ at that instant the 
highest rank in the gift of the king will be conferred on 
you.” 

“ Just like that offered to Sir Ismail Malcolm, is it not, 
lady ? ” said Laurent, sneeringly. “ It appears, lady, that 
you are charged with the very delicate and important mis- 
sion of recruiting a corps of dignitaries against the Bucca- 
neers. By the gods, what a zealous and eloquent recruiting 
officer !” 

At this reply, so little expected and withal the name of 
Sir Ismail Malcolm flung into her teeth, Isabel uttered the 


THE ASSAULT. 347 

yell of a wounded lioness, and then reared her brow and 
downcast eyes with all her Castilian haughtiness. 

“ Sir ! ” said she, in a hissing voice, “ to outrage a woman 
is simply cowardice, but when that woman loves you it 
then becomes the infamy of an assassination.” 

At these stinging words a fearful expression of ferocity 
passed over the face of the Buccaneer. But it was trans- 
ient, and as it passed away he continued, “You are not de- 
ficient in action or imagination; but you are too artificial in 
your acting. You have the spirit of the stage, but not the 
tact — but for that you would be perfect. Society has spoilt 
you. And the man who weds you will soon repent of it, 
aye, and bitterly too. If you love me it is simply because, 
my indifference has piqued your vanity. You sought to 
conquer, but not to bless. W oman of the world, and living 
only for the world, you are heartless. Noble ladies like you 
yield to caprice, fancy, but never to love. The letter I 
wrote you meant what it said. If I did not avail myself of 
your nervous weakness to enjoy your companionship, it was 
due to the disgust of satiety, not delicacy. Beauty had be- 
come a bore.” 

To describe the arrogant impertinence with which the 
Buccaneer uttered these bitter words with more than Sa- 
tanic scorn would be vain. From his tone and his manner 
none could doubt that he meant what he said. 

Isabel became deadly pale ; her limbs appeared to stiffen ; 
her eyes fixed on vacancy, a spasm passed over her face. 

Laurent smiled. 

Her lips parted to utter a piercing shriek and, as if struck 
by lightning, she fell at full length upon the floor. 

“Ah — just like her predecessor,” murmured Laurent. 
“ She swore that she loved me, and performed fainting to 
make me believe her — and to display a perfect leg — and 
then — then — . Yes, these women of the haute noblesse arc 
all exactly alike, the same in every age and clime. Ah, 
poor young man, Malcolm, zealous apostle of your faith — if 


348 


THE B UGCANEERS. 


you only knew the value of her oath old age would ripen 
your heart before a wrinkle furrows your brow or a silver 
thread glistens in your hair.’^ 

Laurent then turned to go away when the tramp of hur- 
ried footsteps arrested him. 

“ Ah,” muttered he, “ it seems that I spoke to an intelli- 
gent negro — who had not such implicit faith in my j^ower to 
see through stone walls. I shpuld have dispatched him on 
the spot. They are at the door. If the Spaniards are not 
twenty to one ! ” 

The door opened and Malcolm appeared. 

“You here ! ” said Laurent, fiercely. “ By what authority 
do you leave your post to come here ?” 

Malcolm, without replying to tho question of his superior, 
peered about the room with a hurried and eager glance. 

“ Isabel ! ” exclaimed he. Seeing her stretched motion- 
less upon the floor he ran to her, knelt by her side and, tak- 
ing her Avhite, delicate hand in his own, “ Isabel — my adored 
Isabel — it is I — Ismail Malcolm. My God, can she be 
dead ! If so I will die at her feet.” 

Whether the shock which had stricken her w^as too vio- 
lent to last long without death or reaction, or whether the 
voice and touch of Malcolm revived her, she soon became 
conscious. 

“ Is it you, Ismail ? ” said she as he raised her from the 
floor. “ Then indeed heaven Yas sent you to me. Protect 
rae.” 

“ Protect you ! ” exclaimed Malcolm. “ What danger 
threatens ? Who has dared to insult you ? ” 

“ That robber — that wretch,” replied she scornfully, point- 
ing her finger at Laurent. 

“ Ah,” exclaimed Malcolm, turning to Laurent, “ it was 
to enjoy unmolested the luxury of outraging the woman I 
love that you were so peremptory in ordering me to remain 
in command of the men at the cathedral, was it ? Covv^ard ! 
You have been caught red-handed, and you shall die.” 


THE ASSAULT. 


349 


The lover, beside himself and blind in his rage, and know- 
ing not what he did, cocked one of his pistols and advanced 
to Laurent. The Buccaneer chief stood motionless and 
with unblinking eyes looked Malcolm in the face as the 
pistol muzzle of the infuriated lover touched his breast. 

“ Sir Ismail Malcolm,” said he coolly, I now return with 
interest the words you addressed to me one day — Coioard, 
and assassin, do your loorst.^^ 

The incredible coolness of Laurent saved his life. 

Malcolm, recalled to a consciousness of what he was do- 
ing, threw the pistol from him in horror at the precipitation 
• with which he had acted. 

“ This time at least, Laurent,” said he, ‘‘ one of us must 
die.” 

“ I— fight with you — my comrade ? Never, never, man — ■ 
never,” said Laurent with every appearance of genuine sur- 
prise at such an unheard of contingency. 

Will you force me to assassinate you ? ” said Malcolm, 
struggling to be cool. 

You assassinate me!” said Laurent in atone of half 
irony and half affectation. “ Boy, you are too noble to do 
that. Come, comrade, I cannot express the joy I feel at the 
false move you have just made. Not twenty days ago you 
swore by the venerated name of your father, eternal friend* 
ship and fidelity. Now you would take my life for a trifle 
— a woman. Say, that storm of rage and jealousy enchants 
me. It explains and palliates my terrible past. You so 
noble, so loyal, to attempt assassination only proves that 
love is a species of mental hallucination, that when the heart 
softens under its enervating influence, the brain follows suit ; 
and that when those afflicted by that visitation shed blood, 
they should be treated as^-9a^/en^ not criminals.^’ 

As Laurent spoke the door opened and Nativa entered. 
The scene began to be complicated. 


350 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

THE RIVALS. 

Xativa stood in the open doorway a moment hesitating 
and irresolute, but quickly recovering from this momentary 
embarrassment she, with a bright eye and glowing cheek, 
advanced or rather bounded to Isabel Sandoval and gazed 
upon her intently for a few seconds. 

‘‘ This then is the Spanish girl you love. Sir Ismail,” said 
she without taking her eye from the face of her rival. 

Malcolm was too disconcerted to reply. 

“ Holy Virgin,” said Nativa, how beautiful she is ! I 
never could have believed that a woman could be so beauti- 
ful. What is her name ? ” 

‘‘Her name is Isabel Sandoval,” said Laurent, “daughter 
of Julian Sandoval, count of Monterey — one of the noblest 
of Spanish grandees. His wealth, power and rank is such 
princes aspire to the hand of his daughter, and his son-in- 
law, be he who he may, will be the envy of all Europe. 
With aU this, Nativa,” continued the Buccaneer chief with a 
long drawn sigh, “ I would not exchange one of your sweet 
smiles for the daughter, the wealth, the rank, the power, of 
the count of Monterey. You gloat in ecstacy over the 
beauty of the lady Isabel ? You have never beheld your 
own face in a mirror ; you know not that nature has ex- 
hausted all her creative powers to make you the most beau- 
tiful of women; and the dazzling beauty of that fair daughter 
of Spain is faint and insignificant compared to*your own.” 

“ Are you speaking the truth, Laurent ? ” exclaimed Xa- 
tiva with unfeigned joy and astonishment. “ Are you not 
laughing at me ? Why, then, does Sir Ismail love her as a 
lover and me only as a brother ? ” 


THE BIVALS. 


351 


The words nttered by Laurent and the Buccaneeress, 
awakened the haughty spirit of the Castilian beauty. "With 
all the majesty of Olympic Juno, she addressed herself to 
Malcolm : “ Sir Ismail Malcolm ” — with a sneering emphasis 
upon the Sii ’' — “ your presence here in Granada, in company 
with that man — and that woman — apprizes me that you 
have abandoned the honest occupation of wrechmaster and 
pilot, to embrace the more lucrative of pirate. My 

father is fortunately not in the city, but he has left all you 
seek — his gold — here. Do not let me detain you; I wish to 
be alone. One of my servants will take you to the place 
where the money is deposited, take all you find and by no 
means neglect to get your share of it.” 

These cruel words from the lips of one so fondly loved, so 
devoutly worshiped, brought tears to the eyes of him to 
whom they were addressed. 

“ Lady,” said he in all the anguish of his wounded spirit, 
“ why this cruel, unmerited insult ? You ought to know 
that I came not here for plunder. My whole and sole ob- 
ject was to see you once more and lay my heart at your 
feet.” 

“ What, sir ! ” replied Isabel, with all the scornful bitter- 
ness she could command. ‘‘ Can you make this avow^al here 
before Laurent ? Have you forgotten that that robber has 
rejected me — that I, the daughter of one of Spain’s princely 
nobles, have forfeited the honor of my name — that I am un- 
worthy of the love of a gentleman, and that between you 
and me shame, dishonor, has dug an unfathomable abyss ? 

“Lady Sandoval,” said Laurent, “I must indeed admire 
your persevering energy. Your self-abasement is admir- 
ably well performed, and if it can have the desired effect of 
exciting the passions of Sir Ismail and induce him to assas- 
sinate me, your role will be a perfect success.” 

“Indeed, Sir Bobber,” replied Isabel with a hauteur 
thoroughly Castilian, “ you attach undue importance to your 
infamous life. Why should I desire your death when you 


053 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


nre already dead to me ? I confess that once, deluded by 
the impulses of a woman’s too confiding nature and uncoun- 
seled by experience, I became attached to you to perform a 
holy mission, to snatch, as I thought, a burning brand from 
the flames of hell. But I was not born in your world. I 
knew nothing of the baseness and meanness of men of your- 
stamp. I was reared in the society of princes and gentle- 
men ; and I thought, and I was taught to think, that a brave 
man and a gentleman were synonomous terms. I had to 
learn from sorrow’s teaching that bravery, like beauty, can 
be shared alike by devils and angels, gentlemen and black- 
guards.” 

After a moment’s pause she continued in a milder tone, 
‘‘If I have ever committed a wrong upon the rights and 
feelings of another in my life, it is Sir Ismail Malcolm, and 
he only has a right to reproach me.” 

“ I — I — Lady ? ” exclaimed the astonished Malcolm. 

“ Yes ; you, sir,” replied Isabel. “ I permitted you to 
form an attachment for me which I could not reciprocate. 
I excited false hopes which I could not realize. In a word, 
I have deceived you ; but I am more to be pitied than 
blamed. Fascinated by your noble character, and grateful 
for the rescue of my father and myself on that terrible night 
at cape Henry from the jaws of death, at the peril of your 
own life, in an evil hour I deceived myself as well as you. 
I mistook admiration for love, and when the sober second 
thought came I shrank from making linown what I thought 
would grieve you and debase me. I intended in due time 
to explain myself ; your good opinion was precious to me. 
But now I will detain you no longer. Adieu, sir. My 
career on earth is past — my thoughts are turned to God, 
and, believe me, from the silence and darkness of that hvino- 
tomb, the cloister, I will ever pray for you.” 

“ What say you, Isabel ? ” exclaimed the distracted lover. 

“ You bury yourself in a convent ! You, so young, so beau- 
tiful, whose world lies before you so bright ! This sacrifice. 


THE RIVALS. 353 

nay this sacrilege — the offspring of despair — shall not be 
accomphshed.” 

“ Your pardon, sir,” said Isabel. ‘‘ It shall be done. Why 
should you wish it otherwise ? Have you such a mean opin- 
ion of me as to beheve me capable of giving you the hand 
and the heart of the woman whom Laurent has so scorn- 
fully rejected ? I know that he is too infamous to excite 
jealousy ; but his scorn, his ungrateful return to my gener- 
ous folly, is my shame. It rests upon my spirit with all the 
weight of crime and the disgrace of dishonor. My pride is 
the doom of hell. My love the sting of damnation. I will 
not that the man I marry should know my past.” 

“ Isabel, Isabel ! ” exclaimed Malcolm, “ the more I reflect 
upon your conduct, as it regards Laurent, the more I admire 
and love you ; and in the presence of that man who has so 
disdainfully rejected your love, I say accept my love — be 
my wife.” 

At these words, uttered with all the fervent zeal of a lover, 
Nativa grew pale and leaned for support upon the back of a 
chair. As to Laurent, he alternately glanced his mocking- 
eye from Isabel to Malcolm and from Malcolm to Isabel, 
with a smile of intense delight at the scene. 

An involuntary expression of joy passed Over the face of 
Isabel when she heard the proposal of Malcolm. 

“ Sir Ismail,” said she, with one of her sweetest smiles, 
“I did not expect less from your noble heart; and I sin- 
cerely appreciate an act as generous as it is delicate. You 
wish simply to minister to my mortified self-love, and 
heal the open wounds of an insulted woman’s pride. With 
my last breath I will thank and pray for you,” 

You accept, then, Isabel,” said Malcolm beginning to feel 
delirous with joy. 

“ On the contrary, I refuse,” continued she. “ Oh, do not 
interrupt me. I know that you, with unswerving; unbend- 
ing faith would fullfil your vo^v^; that never one word of 
yours would remind, much less reproach, me with the past. 


354 


THE BUCCANEEBS. 


I feel that with you a woman’s happiness would be without 
alloy, — ^but — alas ! . ” 

“ You hesitate Isabel ! In mercy go on,” said the implor- 
ing lover. 

“Alas! sir,” continued she, “pardon me if I do go on. 
You forget that I do not belong to myself — that my father 
alone has the right to dispose of me in marriage.” 

“Ah, weU, Isabel,” exclaimed the sanguine Malcolm, 
“ why should your father refuse my alliance ? The blood of 
a long line of Scotland’s kings flows in my veins. I am 
young, and my fate is in my own hands. Sustained by your 
love I feel capable of doing anything man has done or can 
do.” 

“ And now, sir,” said Isabel with a furtive smile playing 
upon her lips, “ do you think the count of Monterey would 
receive the proposal of a Buccaneer for the hand of his 
daughter ?” 

This question struck down Malcolm; he felt too deeply 
the force of the argument; he began to taste the bitterness 
of his humiliating position. 

Nativa, who, during the conversation between Malcolm 
and Isabel, stood silent and dispairing, now came to the 
rescue of the dispondent Malcolm. 

“ My Ismail,” said she taking his hands in hers, “ do not 
grieve so. Why not love me, better than that girl? I am 
a thousand times better than she. Fling that senseless am- 
bition to be great away and live with me. AVe will never be 
separated again. AVe will be happy together in our beauti- 
ful forest. AVe will hunt every day, every evening I will 
gather the fruits you love best. I will adorn your chamber 
with beautiful flowers every morning. I will do everything 
you wish me to do. I wiU study all the books you give me. 
Come, cheer up. You know now that this Isabel cares noth- 
ing for you; and why should you wish to marry her ? Think 
you, if she loved you, she would insult you for being what 
you are ? Those were wicked words of hers just now. I 


THE RIVALS. 355 

do not tliink lier pretty any longer. Let ns go away. Is- 
mail, come.” 

“ Nativa,” said Malcolm, gently resisting her efforts to pull 
him away, “if you really feel for me — as a sister — do not 
talk so. Without Isabel, there is no happines for me on earth. 
As to you, lady,” continued he turning to Isabel Sandoval, 
“pardon the innocent naivete of this dear child, grownup in 
the shade of her wild forest home, beyond the pale of civiliza- 
tion; she recks not in her untutored ideas the tenor and im- 
port of the words she utters. The name of her friendship 
for me is — devotion.” 

“ Yes, Isabel,” continued he after a pause, “ for a Buccaneer 
to aspire to your hand would be the presumption of folly; 
leave me at least the solace of hope. Hold, Isabel, would 
you that I swear to live for you alone ? If you would 
promise me on your oath to refuse all other alliances you 
cannot imagine how much that assurance would strengthen 
and assure me. Turn not from my appeal. If I did not 
feel capable of any sacrifice in devotion to the one sole ob- 
ject of life, I never would have dared to make it.” 

“Sir Ismail,” replied Isabel, “your generous devotion 
overcomes me. Before God, who hears me, I swear — while 
you live, never to wed another.” 

This engagement, the first and the only explicit one she 
had ever contracted with him, filled Sir Ismail Malcolm with 
delirious joy. 

“ And I, on my part,” he exclaimed, “swear on the honor 
of a gentleman, the salvation of my soul, and the mem- 
ory of my. father, that never while you hve, shall any other 
woman under any circumstances whatever, bear my name.” 

When he uttered these words Nativa gasped a plaintive 
cry, closed her eyes as if to shut out the reality of what she 
saw and heard, stretched out her hands, grasping in vacan- 
cy for a support, then fell fainting on the floor. 

The first impulse of Malcolm was to run to her; but Isa- 
bel held him with her ghttering eye. Laurent went to her. 


356 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


and with all the gentleness he was capable of, raised her up 
in a recumbent position and supported her head ujDon his 
breast. 

Come, with me. Sir Ismail,” said Isabel, “ let us find my 
maid — she will attend to that young woman.” 

So soon as the door closed behind herself and Malcolm 
she turned to him and in a voice tremulous with rage said, 
“ Sir Ismail — Laurent must die. Not in a duel by the hand 
of a gentleman — he has forfeited that honor — but the ig- 
nominous death of a felon, who plunders cities and insults 
women. You remain here until the Buccaneers leave. The 
worst that can happen to you, if recognized as a French sub- 
ject or ally, is to be a prisoner of war on parole; and in that 
case you have my father for a friend and a grateful one too. 
As to me, my first duty is to save Grranada from the horrors 
with which it is threatened. Come with me ! ” 

‘‘ For what purpose, Isabel ?” exclaimed jMalcolm. “ Would 
you alarm the city ? You well know that I can sacrifice my 
life, but never my honor. Let Laurent’s crimes be Avhat 
they may, he is my comrade in arms;' I will never desert or 
betray him — stay ! ” 

With these words Malcolm threw himself between Isabel 
and the street door; but she glided off in another direction 
and disappeared. 

In a second more the city bells began to toll, and broke 
the dead silence of the night with their deep-toned, tremu- 
lous peals. 

“ Sir Ismail,” said Isabel — returning through- the sliding 
panel, through which she had disappeared like a shadow — 
“ out of respect to your scruples I have acted in opposition 
to you. None can now accuse you of being my accomplice. 
I have had the alarm bells tolled, and now the whole popu- 
lation of Granada are astir. The bells you hear are rung to 
announce earthquakes and fires. Not one of the Buccaneers 
will leave this city alive. While they are receiving the pun- 
ishment they deserve, I will place you in an asylum where 
none can suspect your presence.” 


THE RIVALS. 


857 


Lady,” said Malcolm, pale with mortification and anger, 
‘‘ those alai'm bells simply toll my dirge. Think you that I 
could be that base, that mean, to desert my comrades in the. 
hour of danger? Those Buccaneers, you seem to dispise 
so, are subjects of France. They are good and faithful 
soldiers fighting for the honor of their flag, their king, and 
their country. Back, Isabel, and let me pass — to join my 
comrades.” 

“Ah, you are anxious about the safety of that young 
damsel; is it not so, Fir Ismail?” said Isabel with a per- 
ceptible sneer. “ WeU, go seek her; but remember that a 
solemn oath binds your fate to mine. My father was right 
when he said that, Englishmen are witless, and French faith- 
less.” 

The moments were on the wing. Distant firing was heard, 
and Malcolm, without replying to the sarcastic insinuations 
of his lady-love, rushed into the apartment where he had 
left Laurent and Nativa. The former was endeavoring to 
revive the stricken girl who lay unconscious. 

“ Comrade,” said Laurent to him, “ v4§have no time to lose. 
Seconds are hours now. Day is breaking, and in a few 
minutes more retreat is out of the question. Get the two 
men at the street door, join your command at Santa Engracia, 
and board the frigate as quick as possible.” 

“ What ! ” exclaimed Malcom, “ do you think that I could 
leave you alone to be torn in pieces by an infuriated enemy 
when I am the cause of your being here? No; a thousand 
times, no. Where you are there will I be to share your 
fate.” 

“ What stupid, illtimed chivalrj^” said Laurent with an 
impatient shrug. “ How the devil can your self-sacrifice as- 
sist me? On the contrary, your presence will only embarrass 
me.” 

“But what prevents you,” said Malcolm, “from doing 
yourself what you wish me to do ? Go yourself with the 
men and join the main body at Santa Engracia.” 


358 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


“ButNativa?” said Laurent. 

“ Your self-sacrifice will not save her,” said Malcolm. “ If 
you succeed in collecting the command together, you can 
then come to our rescue.” 

“Abandon ITativa!” exclaimed Laurent, vehemently. 
“ Never — poor, dear girl ! ’Tis for her alone that I would 
live.” 

Laurent, then throwing open the street window, ordered 
the two men he had posted on the outside of the street door 
to join the main body at the cathedral. 

“ Now, comrade,” said he, turning to his subaltern, “ the 
question now before us is how best to prepare for a game 
death. If we surrender alive, it must be from sheer mus- 
cular inability to fire a gun, or strike a blow, and not then 
until we have sent a hecatomb of Spaniards to kingdom 
come. While you throw up a breastwork before each of the 
street windows with the furniture of the room, which will 
protect us as we fire through the open windows, I will se- 
cure and confine the servants of the house. AVe must have 
no traitors to harrassjpur rear while we have the enemy in 
front. Then we take our positions and abide the issue of 
battle. I have often found myself in more desperate cir- 
cumstances, and always got out of them with honor and 
safety, and I see no reason why fortune should’ frown upon 
me now. Come — to work.” 

During the absence of Laurent, who did not consume 
much time in providing against any attack in his rear by the 
servants of the house, Malcolm piled up, before three large 
street windows of the saloon, all the furniture in it, thus 
making a species of barricade over the crest of which they 
could fire through the open window without exposure — in a 
word a parapet wall in the rear of a casemate. 

This work done, he turned to.Nativa; he bathed her head 
with cold water, and used every means in his power to pro- 
duce reaction, but in vain. Nativa lay in a lethargic stupor. 

“ Alas ! ” said the distracted young man, with tears in his 


THE RIVALS. 


359 


eyes, to think that I am her murderer — that until she knew 
me, she was a joyous, happy being in her island Paradise. I 
entered therein an evil spirit to darken the brightness of her 
day. Isabel Sandoval between you and her, whom I have 
so cruelly sacrificed, my heart hesitates. I never apprecia- 
ted Nativa’s faultless chai-acter or matchless beauty. It 
seems that an iron hand has been removed from my eyes 
and I now behold the true and the beautiful. But that fa- 
tal oath which binds my honor ! Ah, Nativa, it requires all 
the powers of a strong will and loyal heart to prevent my 
lips from uttering the words, lorn you too well! ’ 

As Malcolm uttered these words, the breathing of Nativa 
became more regular and less stertorous, the reactionary 
color of consciousness tinged her cheeks and lips; she open- 
ed her eyes to meet those of Malcolm tenderly bent upon 
her. 

“ Ah, is it you. Sir Ismail, that is here with me ?” said she, 
rising to a recumbent position and sweeping back, with the 
palms of her hands, the tresses which covered her cheeks. 
“ I thought it was Laurent. What has happened ? Have I 
been wounded ? n Where am I ?” Her eyes wandered about 
the room as if they sought some object, and found it not; then 
uttering a low, plaintive moan, like the tremulous wail of a 
wounded dove, she went on to say, “ I remember it all now. 
How cruel you have been. But no, I am wrong* to accuse 
you. Pardon me — I know not what I say. It was not your 
fault that I am less beautiful than she. You have been too 
kind to endure my presence so long without complaint. 
But fear not, I am going away. You shall never see me 
again. Farewell, Sir Ismail, farewell.” 

Her wish and her ^vill were stronger than her physical 
powers. She arose to go, but had to lean against the wall 
for support. 

Nativa,” exclaimed Malcolm, running to and folding her 
in his arms, do not break my heart. Do not curse me into 
anniliilation. If you but knew how I suffer, you would pity 


860 


7 HE BUCCANEERS, 


me at least. You say I do not love you. Bitter words are 
those from your lips. Nativa, my sister, I would give ten 
years of my life to be free of that vow — that oath — for then 

then ! ” His lips refused to utter the words he 

would say. He burst into an agony of tears. 

"Whether from sympathy with Malcolm’s distress, or the 
inspiration of those unspoken words, the face of Nativa 
shone with angelic radiance. “ Sir Ismail,” she breathed, 
rather than said, in the music of an angel’s whisper, “'speak 
not thus, I pray you. You have made me — too happy. I 

thought you hated me that the sight of me inspired you 

with horror. You love me still and will ever love me as a 
sister ! Grieve not that I weep. I weep from joy. I never 
knew that tears could be so sweet.” 

Her emotions overpowered her, and she was for a time si- 
lent. The paroxysm passed, she went on in a lower tone as 
if fearing that the walls had ears. “Would it not be better 
for us to go away ? To remain here is to fall into the hands 
of the Spaniards.” 

“ Do you fear them ?” said Malcolm. 

“ Fear them — with you at my side ? Never,” said she, 
stoutl}' ; but quickly coloring and stammering she added, 
“ Yes, I do fear them. Let us go away, I beg you.’’ 

This innocent falsehood was the first she had ever uttered. 
She was jealous. She opened the door as if to haid the way, 
when a volley of musketry was heard in the cathedral square. 

“ It is too late,” said she, reclosing the door. “ we are 
lost ” Then raising her hands clasped in prayer, she prayed 
in a voice unheard by Malcolm, “ Holy Virgin, hear my 
last prayer — let me at least die with him.” 

Malcolm, upon hearing the musketry,, had gone to the 
open window and saw some panic-stricken Spanish soldiers 
firing at random, though no- enemy was in sight. 

“Comrade,” said Laurent, entering, “we are masters of 
the fortress at least. I have put all the servants of the 
count under bolts and bars : but I see not Nativa where I 


THE RIVALS, 


361 


left lier — ah, here she is, behind a barricade, as brave and 
as beautiful as Virgil’s Queen of Amazons. Do you think 
you can go with us? We will make a sortie. The Span- 
iards are so panic-stricken that they will take us for a corps 
d'armee. Let us go.” 

As this last word was uttered two musket balls, fired from 
the street, struck the marble face of a table which Malcolm 
had placed on its edge to form a barricade; at the same time 
yells and shouts of contending men were heard on all sides. 

“As we are discovered,” said Laurent, with cool indiffer- 
ence, “ we must bide our chances of battle where we are. 
Each to a barricade and commence firing — and Nativa can 
reload our rifles for ns.” 

“Nativa has her. own rifle to reload,” said the Buc- 
caneeress, with an arch smile. 

In another second the three rifles flashed and banged, and 
three Spanish soldiers fell dead in the street. 

“ Very well,” said Laurent, leveling his two pistols, one in 
each hand, “ here is two more.” 

Down the two Avent. 

Malcolm folloAved suit with equal success. 

“ Seven gone already,” continued Laurent, reloading his 
fire arms. “As long as they are the assailing party we 
will swim in blood and enjoy the luxury of carnage. I 
wager that they are forced to use artillery against us. Ah, 
good ! Here is an officer within range of my rifle — he Avill 
make eight.” 

Eight dead bodies lay stark on the pavement, in front of 
the house of the count of Monterey, before the battle was 
more than two minutes old. The Spaniards, frightened at 
such a loss from an unseen enemy whose force they could 
not enumerate, fled with precipitation. Malcolm and Lau- 
rent brought doAvn two more men as they fled. 

“ Gallant hidalgos of Spain, to be sure ! ” said Laui’ent, 
scornfully shrugging his shoulders. “ They are capable of 
yiivesting us with a regular seige and starving us out.” 


362 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


“ You are too liasty in your conclusions, comrade,’* said 
Malcolm. “ They are far from abandoning the idea of as- 
sault. I see a large body of military advancing towards 
us.” 

“Fire upon the officers, comrade,” said Laurent; “their 
soldiers without officers will bo as unmanageable as a ship 
without a rudder. A captain down! Bully for you. But 
I will offset your captain with a colonel. Now we are quits. 
Keep low behind your barricade, Nativa. The Dons are 
about to open fire upon us.” As he spoke a shower of bullets, 
like hail, rattled agamst the stone walls of the Monterey 
house ; but not one of these ill-aimed missiles entered the 
apartment of the beseiged. 

Laurent exploded into a hearty laugh — a rare thing with 
him — and turning to Malcolm said, “I must confess that 
I have committed a 'stupid blunder in making a night attack 
upon Granada. I ought to have taken this city in broad 
day-light. My eighty men would have carried it at the 
point of the sword without wasting a grain of j^owder. Be- 
enforcements massing in front, and no firing beyond, proves 
that our barges have executed their orders; that is to say, 
carried all the gold and spoil on board, and it is more than 
probable that our fellows, relieved of the duty of guarding 
the treasures, will come to our relief — and I shall not regret 
a little active exercise. Our position is becoming monoto- 
nous.” 

“ And very critical,” .said Malcolm. “ It seems to me, that 
we must sooner or later surrender or die. When the Span- 
iards recover from their surprise and learn the paucity of 
our numbers we must certainly be overpowered.” 

“ I do not view the case in so dark a light,” rej)lied Lau- 
rent. “ On the contrary, I see as many chances of success 
as we could reasonably expect.” 

“ What are they?” was the anxious inquiry of Malcolm. 

“In the first place,” said Laurent, “ the terror with which 
our debut has filled the population of Granada, then an at- j 


THE RIVALS. 


363 


tack in tlieir rear by our crew, and lastly wliat I value more 
than either, my luck — or rather the inspiration that danger 
gives me — to turn circumstances apparently unfavorable to 
such an advantage, that we shall owe our escape to ourselves 
only.” 

Malcolm, however despondent he might have been under 
circumstances so desperate, could but pay the homage 
of admiration to that man, who, single-handed against an 
entire city in its wrath, did not despair of victory in such an 
unequal strife. Besides, the exploits of Laurent reported 
by his cotemporaries, surpassed in daring anything re- 
corded in history or fiction. 

But at this moment fortune did not appear to smile upon 
the sanguine auguries of the Buccaneer chief. Scarcely 
had he uttered these sanguine words of hope when two 
battalions of militia and one company of regulars debouched 
from various streets into the cathedral square, but instead 
of exposing themselves to the deadly fire of the Buccaneers 
in the Monterey house, these soldiers took positions in the 
neighboring houses, in the tower and on the roof of the 
cathedral, presenting an order of battle very different from 
that taken by their predecessors; and finally an eighteen- 
pounder cannon, drawn by a team of negroes, followed by 
artillerymen, was unlimbered in the mouth of an alley on 
the opposite side of the street, in front of the Monterey 
house. 

“Ah,” said Laurent, again exploding with laughter, “that 
is too good. I did not expect to have my pleasantry real- 
ized so soon. Artillery to attack two men and one girl. 
None but a Spaniard would have thought of that. Thosa 
grandiloquent Dons have the merit of performing the drol- 
lest comedies with all the gravity of owls and solemnity of 
apes.” 

It was evident to Malcolm that the words of his companion 
in arms and misfortune were not the affected swagger of a 
braggart to conceal fear; his tone and manner indicated the 


364 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


mirtli of one who appreciated what he considered a good 
joke at the enemy’s expense. 

“ Well, comrade,” said the anxious and thoughtful Mal- 
colm, “ what do you think of the enemy’s change of j)Osi- 
tion?” 

“Well, I admit,” said Laurent, “that the appearance of 
things is the worse for us at present. I do not see how — 
without a miracle — we are to get out of this wasp’s nest 
alive.” 


CHAPTER XL. 

A HEKOIC DEFE^rCE. 

The dwelling houses of the Spanish merchants and grand- 
ees who settled in America during the seventeenth and 
eighteenth centuries were half palace and half fortress. With 
their thick freestone walls and massive doors, loopholed for 
musketry, they could at any moment sustain a siege or resist 
the attack of revolted slaves. 

The Granadians, in using their artillery on this occasion, 
did not by any manner of means merit the sarcastic raillery 
of Laurent. 

A dozen of them — one a colonel — killed or mortally 
wounded in their attack upon the Monterey house, led them 
to suppose that they had a large body of entrenched Buc- 
caneers to deal with, and justified the force and means they 
employed. 

“ Comrade,” said Laurent, “entrenched as we are their 
musketry cannot harm us, but we must look out for the 
artillery and that alone. You can well imagine that Avhen 
the door of the house is blown in they will charge in over- 
powering numbers through the breach ; and though we slay 
the Dons as Samson did the Philistines we must in the. end 
be overpowered.” 


A HEROIC DEFENCE. 


365 


“ What are we to do ? ” said Malcolm. 

“Why, gain time,” said Laurent, “by killing every artil- 
lerist who attempts to fire that piece trained upon us.” 

“ Steady now,” continued Laurent, cocking and leveling 
his rifle. ‘‘ Do you see that fellow with the sponge rammer 
about to swab out the bore ? — I have a bead on him. What 
a clean tumble he makes — my ball struck him in the fore- 
head. Fire upon that man just picking up the rammer, as 
he faces to you. Well done — he welters in a pool of blood 
— you shot him through the heart. Really, Sir Ismail, I 
could not have believed you such an accomplished sharp- 
shooter. 'You are enjoying yourself” 

“ Far from it,” was the gloomy response of Malcolm, re- 
loading his 'rifle. 

“ How we differ,” said Laurent ; “ it has been a long time . 
since I have had such diversion.” 

“You do not reflect, Laurent, upon the certain and igno- 
minious death that awaits us,” said Malcolm. 

“ Why fret about the future, when the present is so de- 
lightful ? ” replied Laurent. “ As to that ignominious death 
you speak of, dismiss all such idle fears. If we fight well 
in the breach the Dons will be too happy to kill us on the 
spot — they will scout the idea of taking us prisoners. But 
see — a third artilleryman advances. He is a bold fellow, that. 

I must treat him as one I esteem. See, he falls — like one 
struck by lightning. I shot him through the temples.” 

The fall of every artillerist who approached the piece, 
either to load or fire it, produced a fearful panic among the 
gunners, so that they put themselves under cover as quickly 
as their legs could carry them. 

At this moment all those soldiers posted in the neighbor- 
ing houses, on the roof and in the lower part of the cathe- 
dral, 02:>ened fire upon the Buccaneers. As well entrenched 
as they were, one of them had his hat and the other the skirt 
of his coat riddled by balls. 

“ The devil ! ” exclaimed Laurent. “ One would think that 


366 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


those fellows had the impudence to take aim at us. Come, 
at them, comrade. Every ball of ours must tell.” 

It was a unique and thrilling spectacle — two men and one 
girl holding at bay the population of a city. At this time 
Nativa, at the entreaty of both Malcolm and Laurent, laid 
down her carbine and retired into an angular corner of the 
room and employed herself in reloading the firearms as they 
were discharged, and thus a continual fire was kept up by 
the besieged. 

For twenty minutes the fire from both parties was unre- 
mitting. 

Laurent became intoxicated, as it were, by the fumes of 
burning powder and at the sight of the blood of the victims 
who fell under his fatal aim. His eyes glowed with sinister 
fire ; his nostrils were expanded with the breath of fury ; 
his long black hair floated in disorder, like those wild bar- 
barian kings we read of in the annals of Tacitus rushing at 
the head of barbaric hosts upon the invaders of their soil. 
He could scarce restrain himself from provoking a speedier 
death by sallying out, for a hand-to-hand fight, with ^^istol 
and cutlass. 

As to Malcolm, sad and gloomy, he fought with the sul- 
len indifference of despair. For twenty minutes not ono 
word passed between him and Laurent. 

Malcolm was the first to break the silence. “ Comrade,” 
said he, “ I have but two more charges — give me some 
powder and balls.” 

“ I have but one more,” replied Laurent. “ Nativa, have 
you ammunition ? ” 

“ My horn is empty, Laurent,” was the reply of Nativa. 

“ Damnation ! ” exclaimed Laurent. “ But no; quite the 
reverse. For your sake I have for some time suppressed 
my yearning to sally forth for a hand-to-hand fight ; but now 
it can no longer be delayed. Throw open the street door. 
The terrace stairway is narrow enough to make a pass of 
Thermopylae, and we are good for a hundred apiece.” 


'A HEROIC DEFENCE. 


367 


Laurent started to go to tlie street door when Malcolm 
seized him by the arm. “ Stay,” said he. “ Do you not 
hear that trumpet ? They have ceased firing. The Span 
iards, despairing of overpowering us, have sounded a parley, 
and will offer us terms of surrender.” 

“The Spaniards offer us terms of surrender when they 
have us in their power!” said Laurent, with misbelieving 
irony. “ The idea is ridiculous. But," continued he, after 
listening a second, “you are right — their bugles are sound- 
ing a truce. A sergeant with a flag of truce is coming to- 
wards us — with a face whiter than his flag. He expects to 
be riddled by balls He is a brave fellow. I have a great 
mind to throw him my purse.” 

“ What does he say ? ” w^as the eager inquiry of Malcolm, 
hearing the indistinct words uttered by the truce bearer. 

“ He proposes a truce,” said Laurent, “ of a quarter of an 
hour, to carry off the dead and wounded. The truce of 
course is a snare. But what does that matter to us ? We 
shall gain a suspension of hostilities just long enough to 
gather up all our strength for the final struggle of death. 
We accept, do we ? ” 

“ Yes, of course, and glad to get it,” said Malcolm, eager- 
ly. ‘Wou know the French proverb, ‘ a ternie a vie.' ” 

“ That proverb did not prevent Saint Laurence, roasting 
by a slow fire, from dying at last upon the gridiron,” said 
Laurent. Truce for us is only a prolongation of agony. I 
will reply to the truce bearer.” 

Laurent, after having removed with his strong arms the 
furniture piled up before one of the windows as a barricade, 
went out on the balcony in front of the window. 

At the appearance of the Buccaneer chief, who stood 
haughty and erect — scornfully measuring with his eye the 
groups of soldiers at their various positions — a murmur of 
involuntary applause or terror pervaded the length and 
bi’eadth of the cathedral square. Then there was a breath- 
less silence. 


368 


THE BUCCANEERS, 


‘‘ Sergeant,’' said he, in a clear and ringing voice, which 
made every syllable distinctly understood by the most re- 
mote, “ we can only grant the truce you propose. Thanks 
to your awkwardness, not one of my command has been in- 
jured by your fire ; nevertheless, to silence the calumnies 
circulated against us, and to prove that we are not the re- 
morseless fiends w'e are reported to be, we grant the truce 
you ask, I pledge my honor, the honor of Captain Lau- 
rent^ not to renew hostilities until the expiration of a quar- 
ter of an hour. Hasten then to carry off your dead and 
wounded, and when the truce expires, unless you lay down 
your arms, expect no mercy from us. If you break the 
truce we so generously grant, with a treacherous intent, then 
you will feel our vengeance to the uttermost. I am done.” 

The Spaniards shuddered when they heard the terrible 
name of the man who commanded the pretended garrison 
of the Monterey house. The two men who made Spain — 
continental and colonial — tremble, were called Montbars 
and Laurent. 

By the gods, comrade,” said Laurent, returning from 
the balcony, if I had one fourth of my crew here, in a half 
an hour Granada would be at my feet.” 

“ Laurent,” replied Malcolm, gazing with admiration 
upon his companion in arms, •' you are certainly the most ex- 
traordinary character the earth has ever borne. But let us 
not waste cur precious moments in discussion. Let us de- 
termine what to do and do it quickly, Nativa, can you not 
suggest something ? God sometimes inspires the frailest of 
mortals with ideas to serve the strong and powerful.” 

Alas, no, my Ismail,” said Nativa. “ 1 have no counsel 
to give ; but I have a petition to make. Hear me with pa- 
tience and refuse not my prayer.” 

“ Speak on, my darling sister, and speak quickly,” said 
Malcolm. 

“ Sir Ismail,” said she, blushing and with a timidity unu- 
sual with her, “you know. not the ferocity of the Spaniards; 


A HEROIC DEFENCE: 


369 


you can have no conception of the horrible outrages they 
perpetrate upon their prisoners and victims. To die at your 
side appals me not ' but what fills me with horror is the 
thought of falling alive into their hands. Within the last 
few days I have reflected much upon that. What woman, 
what girl, would not prefer death to all the horrible dishonor 
of outrage? Swear then to me that when all hope is lost, 
that when the enemy has burst in upon us in overpowering 
numbers, you will kill me to save my honor.” 

At this proposition, so unexpected, Malcolm turned pale 
and was silent. 

“ Ah,” continued. Nativa, after some moments of painful 
suspense, “you answer me not. Can yaw refuse? Then 
indeed I am deserted at my utmost need. I do not shrink 
from the thought of killing myself; but suppose at that 
critical moment my heart should lail and my hand lose its 
strength. Come, dear Ismail, be kind to me — grant my 
prayer.'’ 

My dear girl,” said Laurent, without giving Malcolm 
time to reply, “ that fearful act of kindness for which you so 
devoutly plead, 1 had determined to render you. I swear 
by my love — for you — that I shall not permit you to fall 
into the hands of the Spaniards alive.” 

Laurent raised the hand to his lips. A tear fell upon that 
hand as he passionately kissed it. 

‘ You weep — you — Laurent !” said Nativa, looking with 
astonishment at the tear which glittered like a diamond 
upon the back of her hand. 

“Yes, Nativa,” said the Buccaneer, proudly raising his 
haughty brow ; “ I weep now from human sympathy — that 
feels for another’s woe. For the first time in fifteen years I 
esteem and feel proud of myself.” 

“AVhy cannot Ismail Malcolm love me like that?” said 
Nativa, bitterly smiting her brow with the palm of her 
hand. “ But I thank and bless you, Laurent. Now I am 
safe— no matter. I would have preferred to have died by 


370 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


Ms hand — it seems to me I should not have suffered so 
much from him ; but from yours, I shrink with fear and 
trembling.” 

Malcolm felt as deeply as his comrade. His tear-moist- 
ened eye rested with unspeakable tenderness upon Nativa, 
who never before appeared so beautiful. Her magnificent 
hair, in all its glossy luxuriance fell like a cascade upon her 
statuesque neck and shoulders ; her large black eyes, subli- 
mated by their expression of angelic beatitude, would have 
inspired the martyr at the stake, triumphant over the mor- 
tal agony of dissolution. The inspiration of that last half 
hour, whose fleeting seconds seemed to be but the strokes 
of the knell tolling their dirge, lent to the physical beauty 
of Nativa an aureola of heavenly grace. Preoccupied as 
Malcolm was in that solemn hour he could not refrain from 
gazing in wrapt admiration upon that perfection of mortal 
. beauty. 

Laurent, whether he feared that the contemplation of 
Nativa would unman him for the performance of that ter- 
rible duty of saving her from the incidental horrors of cap- 
ture, in the manner she desired, or whether from some latent 
hope of saving her from herself or the Spaniards — he 
abruptly left her and went out on the balcony where he had 
held the parley with the bearer of the truce flag. 

But scarcely had he glanced over the square before him 
when, w'ith a bound, he leaped back into the apartment 
where he had left Nativa and Malcolm. 

'‘Nativa,'’ exclaimed he, “you are too beautiful to die, 
and you shall not die. For the first time in my life I liave 
prayed to God — and He, in His infinite mercy, has heard 
my prayer. I now see a way to escape.” 


lUE HOLT SACRAMENT, 371 


CHAPTER XLI. 

THE HOLY SACRAMEHT. 

A SPIRIT SO inventive, so cool in danger, so lucid in re- 
sources, as that of Laurent, inspired such confidence in his 
companions that when they heard him utter those words, 
“ I see a way to escape,” they considered themselves out of 
danger, 

“ What has happened, comrade ? ” said Malcolm. 

“ Go to the balcony,” said Laurent. “ Look out on the 
square — tell me what you see.” 

“ I see,” said Malcolm, from the balcony, “ a magnificent 
open carriage drawn by richly caparisoned mules at a slow 
pace, preceded by a man ringing a bell, and in the carriage 
sits a priest clad in ecclesiastical robes.” 

“ Well, what does the people ? ” said Laurent. 

“The people,” continued Malcolm, “or rather the sol- 
diers, who upon the suspension of hostilities left their post 
and flocked into the square, are devoutly kneeling and bow- 
ing their heads to the earth.” 

“ Well,” continued Laurent, “ that priest is carrying the 
Host to a dying man, — and the only thing creditable to 
Spanish character, I can say, is that they are sublime in their 
devotion and respect to their faith. Ten cannons charged 
to the muzzle with grapeshot might vomit death upon that 
kneeling crowd, but not one of them, so long as he can see 
tha- carriage or hear that bell, will arise from his knees. A 
Spaniard is heroic only in his fanaticism. 

‘‘But, Laurent,” said Malcolm, “what has all that to do 
with us ? The time limited by the truce is gliding by with 
fearful rapidity, and our ammimition is spent.” 

“ Just wait a little bit, ^ was the cool rejoinder of Laurent, 
When the moment of action comes, though it pass like a 


372 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


flash of lightning, I can seize it. See now, the carriage 
stops, the priest descends, the soldiers present arms.” 

“ He is going to the colonel — shot by you,” continued 
Malcolm. “ He bends over him raises his hand to give him 
benediction and absolution, and then presents the holy 
sacrament.” 

“Too late, the colonel is dead,” -said Laurent. 

“ Yes,” continued Malcolm, “ the priest returns to his 
carriage, and the soldiers kneel again.” 

“Now, comrade,” said Laurent, “comes that moment 
which decides our life or death. Let us go.” 

Laurent then threw the strap of his rifle over his neck so 
as to carry the weapon diagonally across his back, and took 
a pistol in his left hand; and turning to Nativa, said, “ Trust 
in my devotion and courage,” and without waiting for a 
reply passed his right arm around her waist, raised her up, 
so as to throw the weight of her person on his shoulder 
and breast ; and turning to Malcolm, said, “ Go ahead and 
unbar the street door with as little noise as possible.” 

When they reached the massive folding doors of the 
arched entrance hall of the Monterey house, Malcolm re- 
moved the iron bar which closed the doors on the inside. 

Laurent, for a few seconds, listened to the rolling sound 
of the wheels of the carriage, and then exclaimed, “ Throw 
open the door and do as I do.” 

The door was thrown open, — the carriage of the priest, 
preceded by the bellman, was passing with its slow modu 
lated pace, the Monterey house. 

“ Forward, comrade !” shouted Laurent and with these 
words the Buccaneer chief cleared with the bound of a 
tiger the intervening space and lit within a foot of the car- 
riage. and then, With another leap, seated himself beside the 
priest in the carriage ; and in another second Malcolm was 
on the opposite seat. 

This feat was performed with such rapidity that before 
any of the soldiers so devoutly kneeling could comprehend, 


THE HOLT SACRAMENT. 


373 


r.till less oppose or prevent it, Laurent had time to say in a 
voice audible to all in the square, “ Holy father, I am Cap- 
tain Laurent , take me to Santa Engracia or you die.” 

The stupefaction and consternation of the crowd was such 
that they stood silent, motionless and breathless. Never 
was such an occurrence known or seen. The soldiers knew 
not what to do. One moment of hesitation or delay on 
their part was sufficient for the Buccaneer chief. 

“Holy father, I tell you that I am Captain Laurent, the 
Buccaneer,” said he, coolly cocking his pistol. 

The priest shuddered with horror. With the instinct of 
self-preservation he summoned strength enough to articu- 
late to the coachman, “ Drive to Santa Engracia.” 

The carriage turned in the new direction, the crowd 
groaned, but not daring to combat sacrilege with desecra- 
tion, stood motionless. The spectators of this singular 
scene well knew that at the slightest demonstration on their 
part the terrible threat of the Buccaneer would be accom- 
plished. 

It was indeed a sight of unique singularity to behold the 
strength and manhood of an entire Catholic city kneeling 
before the wheels of a carriage containing two heretics and 
pirates, whom but a moment before they held in their grasp. 

But Malcolm and Laurent did not superciliously abuse 
the position into which they had been placed by such a sin- 
gular turn in the tide of war. Bare headed, with their hats 
in their hands, their eyes bent down in reverential awe, their 
deportment exhibited all the Christian humility they were 
capable of ; but nothing of the pridp and haughtiness of 
triumph. 

The coachman, supposing in this singular train of circum- 
stances that the slow and funereal pace which was usual on 
occasions of carrying the Host to a dying person, was out 
of place now, quickened the heels of his team, and soon 
brought the carriage to Santa Engracia. 

“ Comrade,” exclaimed Malcolm, joyfully, “ there are our 


374 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


barges returning with the speed of oars and sails, and wo 
are saved.” 

None of the Spanish soldiers had followed the carriage of 
the priest, and by the time the coachman checked his team 
at Santa Engracia the barges landed. 

When the Buccaneer crew saw their chief descending 
from the “ holy carriage ” — so was designated the vehicle 
which carried the Host to the>- dying — they understood at 
once the ruse by which the Spanish soldiers were circum- 
vented. They gave vent to their joy in long and loud shouts 
of exultation. 

“ Very good, boys,” muttered Laurent, between his teeth. 
“ Your enthusiasm shall not spoil for a fight. I know how to 
use the right thing in the right place and at the right time.” 

The Buccaneers were too practical not to observe, after 
the joyful ti-ansports of the reunion were over, that the vest- 
ments of the priest and the ornamental metalic work on the 
carriage were worth taking. With them there was but a step 
between the discovery and the taking of a prize. Under 
this idea a party of them advanced to seize this tempting 
booty, but Laurent, throwing himself between them and 
their prey, with his pistol in one hand and his cutlass in the 
other, said to them in a tone and manner too significant to 
be misunderstood, “ The first one that touches that carriage 
or that priest will consider himself dead.” 

The would be plunderers abruptly turned and joined their 
comrades. 

“ Holy father,” said Laurent, with a reverent bow to the 
priest, “ you are free;, go in peace.’ 

“For Avhat you have done,” said Nativa to Laurent, 
“ those old Romans Sir Ismail talks about, would have put 
you in the Pantheon, among the demigods.” 

The Buccaneer blushed. 

Nativa continued, “The more I sec of you the more I 
am provoked with myself for having disliked you — and the 
more I will try to love you.” 


THE HOL T SACRAMENT. 375 

“Do you hope to succeed, Nativa?’’ said Laurent, with 
palpitating earnestness. 

“ It will be very difficult,” was the ingenuous reply of 
I^ativa. “ Why, I know not, every time I try to love you, 
the shadow of Sir Ismail Malcolm appears to come between 
us. Is not that very extraordinary ? ” 

Laurent could not reply to this direct and naive question. 
A cloud passed over his face. With a scowl, his flashing 
eye sought Malcolm. 

The happy man of the party was Jalman, who capered 
like a frolicksome dog upon being restored to his master. 

“You are very good, master,” said he, “to pardon my 
leaving you. I know that it was my duty to go with you ; 
but it so happened that I found myself in a house where 
there was so much gold that I was bewildered the time 
flew so rapidly that the hour or more I was engaged in mak- 
ing my pile appeared but a minute.” 

“ How, Jalman — have you too participated in pillaging 
the city ? ” said the indignant master. 

“ Master,” said Jalman, “ I have only avenged those poor 
unfortunate Indians whom the Spaniards have treated as he, 
Montbars, related it — poor unfortunate Indians. We were 
hard at work in that house ; we have not left an ounce of 
gold or silver in it. Were not the Indians children of God 
as we are ? Did not the country belong to them ? I bet 
I have carried off ten thousand dollars’ worth in gold.” 

As Malcolm was about to reply to this characteristic argu- 
ment of his* servant, Laurent presented himself “Com- 
rade,” said he, abruptly, “I have just discovered that I have 
used you ill when I meant well. The life of a Buccaneer is 
foreign to your tastes and habits. Before the day passes I 
can put you in possession of a princely fortune — then I re- 
lease you from your obligations, and you can return to 
Europe. Listen ” 

“ I thank you for your good intentions,” said Malcolm, 
abruptly putting an estopel upon the words Laurent was 


376 


THE BVCGANEEB8. 


about to utter ; ‘‘but you are mistaken about my tastes and 
habits. It is true that pillaging cities is not congenial to 
me. Nevertheless I abide the consequences of the step I 
have taken of my own free will ; and as to living in Europe, 
that is foreign to me and out of the question.” 

“ But, in case Nativa should become my mistress ! ” 
hissed Laurent between his teeth, and half closing his sinis- 
ter eye. 

“If Nativa should become your mistress, ” replied Mal- 
colm, turning pale, “ then that would alter the case. But it 
cannot be — it shall not be.” 

“We shall see,” was the curt reply of Laurent. “But 
now we will discuss another subject. I have a plan to com- 
municate.” 

“ I am listening,” said Malcolm. 

“ This day,” continued Laurent, “ is the first time in my 
life that I have retreated before an enemy — for I must con- 
fess we fled. We must retaliate in kind. My plan is to 
take advantage of the present humor of our men, and the 
consternation of the garrison of Granada, and attack the 
city in open field and open day. No objections — I value 
them not. I have advised you of my intentions, not to ob- 
tain your consent or approval, but to indicate the line of 
duty you are to pursue. You can truly say that having 
done so little last night, for really we were remiss in duty 
to spend our time chatting with Isabel Sandoval when we 
should have been with the men at work, we must earn our 
share of the booty. If I am killed — now I come to the 
point that interests you — you will take command of the ex- 
pedition, and get away from here as quick as possible. In 
case of my death those eighty veteran Buccaneers who, 
under my orders, have the solidity and discipline of a corps 
cVarmee^ will soon become a disorganized band of robbers. 
Do you accept ? ” 

“To fight in an open field of honorable war as a sol- 
dier, could not but be agreeable,” said Malcolm. “I wiU 


THE HOL T SACRAMENT. 377 

do my best, and hope you will be satisfied with my ef- 
forts.” 

“ Your modesty,” said Laurent, with an approving smile, 
“is a proof of your excellence. Follow me.” 

Laurent and Malcolm then went to the Buccaneers, who 
were waiting impatiently for orders to get into their barges 
and go on board the frigate. 

“Brethren of the sea,” said Laurent to them, “I have 
to accuse myself before you of having overrated the strength 
of a Spanish fortified town. I made you attack a city like 
thieves in the night, instead of soldiers in open day. You 
have seen how my comrade and I kept at bay for a full half 
hour the whole population of Granada. Let us repair our 
error by one bold stroke of manhood. This drowsy city of 
Granada is gorged with gold. We shall be forever dishon- 
ored, as Buccaneers, if we content ourselves with the meagre 
mite we have carried off in the barges. Our brethren at 
Tortuga will treat us as paupers and mendicants. And 
now, forward ! Let us reenter Granada.” 

Out of this field oration, spoken by their chief, one word 
v/as sufficient to fire the enthusiasm of the Buccaneers to the 
culminating point, and that word conveyed the idea of in- 
creasing their booty a hundred fold. A unanimous and 
simultaneous shout of “ Forward ! ” issued from every 
mouth. 

In less than five minutes the ranks were formed and the 
Buccaneer colum.i was in motion. 

As this column was filing out of the faubourg Santa 
Engracia they met a body of two hundred Spanish soldiers. 

“ Boys,” said Laurent to his corps, “ there are not more 
than two men apiece for you to kill — put them out of your 
way. That is so small an affa'.r that I shall not take com- 
mand in it. Do it yourselves in your own way.” 

The Buccaneers opened fire at will. In ten minutes more, 
out of two hundred Spanish soldiers, not more than a dozen 
were on them feet — all the rest were either killed or mor- 


378 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


tally wounded — the survivors fled. The Buccaneers lost 
hut one man. 

The Buccaneer column resumed its march, and reached 
the cathedral without meeting any other resistance. The 
inhabitants fled in terror at their approach. 

Laurent indulged in a^iearty laugh. ‘‘Shipmates, all we 
have to do now,” said he, “ is to give thanks to God for our 
victory, and chant a ‘ Te Deum.’ One half of you remain 
in the ranks to guard against surprise. As to pillaging the 
city, that is unnecessary trouble — I will make the gold and 
silver come to you without your being bored with either 
collection or transportation.” 


CHAPTER XLII. 

THE DECOYED. 

A QUARTEE of au hour after the return of the Buccaneers 
into Granada, the great bell of the cathedral began to toll 
and the terrified inhabitants, ever obedient to that call, 
though it might be their funeral dirge, began to pour in 
thronging masses to the church. 

Soon the ample nave of that gorgeous temple of Catholic 
faith was filled by a compact mass of sad and mournful men 
and women. 

The “ Te Deum ” ordered by Laurent was chanted in the 
presence of a gloomy and silent congregation. A few Span- 
ish merchants to propitiate the wrath of the Buccaneers 
joined their weak and quavering voices in the choral chant 
of the priests. 

None but a Laurent, the Buccaneer, could have gathered 
a congregation of worshippers into a church pillaged the 
over night by his crew and presenting to the horror-struck 


THE DECOYED, 379 

Catholics of the city of Granada all the recent traces of the 
sacriligions profanation. 

After the conclusion of the ceremonial a priest announced 
with deep emotion to the congregation that Captain Laurent 
exacted the sum of half a million of dollars as a ransom 
for the city, and that in default of payment he would burn 
the houses and massacre the inhabitants. The sorrow- 
stricken priest entreated the citizens to submit to the de- 
mand ; and that two hours would be allowed them to col- 
lect the sum. 

In vain should we seek to comj^rehend how a city of 
twelve thousand souls could meekly bow its head in the 
dust before a handful of pirates, unless we associate the fact 
of the marvelous audacity, the indomitable courage, and 
the superstitious awe in which the Buccaneers were held ; 
and in this case, too, it must not be forgotten that Captain 
Laurent commanded them and he was a host in himself. 

While the Spanish priests were chanting the ritual of the 
“ Te Deum ” in sonorous and majestic cadence, Nativa, 
kneeling at the foot of one of the pillars which supported 
the dome of the nave, began to pray fervently. With the 
grateful reaction of a life snatched from the jaws of death 
there came a train of gloomy reflections upon her past. 
They pointed to a future of despair. The fatal oath by 
which Malcolm’s passion for Isabel Sandoval had bound him 
to her was ever ringing in her ears — the requiem of crushed 
affections — an oath which she, Nativa, regarded holy and 
sacred. This impassible barrier between Malcolm and her- 
self evoked in her spirit new and terrible sensations. She 
felt like those who, born in the cradle of wealth atid fed by 
the hand of luxury, are suddenly by some cruel reverse 
thrown hungry and naked upon a cold and pitiless world, 
who then, but not till then, feel the sting of poverty. 
Separated by a life-enduring obstacle from Malcolm — then 
she felt the bitterness of hoj)eless love. Her heart bled the 
more because it bled in vain. 


380 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


Wliile thus in sorrow prajhng, a Spanish lady with her 
head and face covered by a black mantilla, so indispensable to 
the out door toilet of Spanish women, knelt by Nativa’s side 
and appeared to observe her with lively interest. 

“ Nativa,” whispered the stranger, drawing closer to her, 
“ yield not to despondency. Cheer up. Sir Ismail Malcolm 
is not worthy of your love.” 

At the name of Malcolm Nativa shuddered. 

“ Who are you ? ” said she to the veiled woman. By 
what mystic jDOwer do you divine that unspoken and un- 
sj)eakable sorrow of my heart ? ” 

“ I am, I tell you, your devoted friend,” was the reply, 
through the muffled folds of the mantilla. 

“ Do you know Sir Ismail ? ” asked Nativa. 

“ I do,” was the rei)ly. 

“ You love him, too, then ? ” was the half inquiry and half 
afflrmation of Nativa. 

“ Poor girl ! ” replied the Spanish lady in accents of pity. 
‘'By the words you have just uttered I understand the 
hopeless devotion of your 23assion and the cruel tortures 
you are enduring. Let us go out of the church. It is sac- 
rilege to talk of human j)assions here.” 

“ Yes, let us go out,” said Nativa. “ I wish to learn who 
you are and how you came to know Sir Ismail Malcolm.” 

The stranger quickly arose and, carefully gathering the 
folds of her mantilla around her face, glided as silent and as 
light as a shadow through the crowd. 

Nativa followed her. 

By her musical voice, easy, graceful carriage, this woman 
must be- very young and very happy,” thought Nativa. 
“ What grace and dignity in her walk ! It is strange that I 
never observed until now that women walk differently from 
each other. How ignorant I have been. At every step new 
ideas present themselves. How happy I shall be when I 
learn everything. But am I not wrong to rejoice? The 
more I learn the more I suffer. More light, more* sorrow. 


TUE DECOYED, 


381 


Why then did not Ismail tell me of this woman ? My God ! 
how I long to see her face. I am sure she must be beau- 
tiful.” 

As Nativa indulged herself in this mute soliloquy the 
veiled stranger moved on through the square and when 
opposite a plain house of moderate size, she stopped and, 
taking a 'key from under her veil, unlocked and opened the 
door, signed to Nativa to enter, then followed herself, re- 
closed and relocked the door. Then, from a long and dark 
corridor, Nativa followed her conductor into a plainly fur- 
nished apartment on the ground floor of the house. 

“Be seated, Nativa,” said the stjranger, in a tone more like 
command than invitation. “I wish to have a moment’s 
conversation with you.” 

“ How strange ! ” thought Nativa. “ I could not have 
believed that she is the same who accosted me in the cathe- 
dral, so changed is her voice.” 

“ Will you not remove your veil?” said Nativa to her 
mysterious hostess, after seating herself. “ I like to see the 
faces of those who speak to me.” 

“ Just as you please,” said the veiled lady,, removing her 
mantilla and throwing it carelessly from her. 

Nativa uttered a cry of astonishment mingled with fright 
when she saw before her Isabel Sandoval. 

Then followed a breathless silence of some seconds, as 
these two women gazed into each others eyes. 

This silence was broken by Isabel Sandoval. “ This is 
quite dramatic,” said she. “ It appears that my presence 
startles 3"OU.” 

“ Yes, you speak truly,” said Nativa ; “ this interview, 
under present circumstances, does startle me.” 

“That is to say, you are conscious of having wronged 
me,” said Isabel. “Do you know that you are perfectly 
beautiful ? ” 

“I, conscious of having wronged you!” said Nativa open- 
ing her eyes wide with astonishment. “ Why do you speak 


382 


TUB BUCGANEEnfi. 


false ? It is wicked. You know tliat if either of us has 
wronged the other, it is not I. Until a few moments ago 
you were a stranger to me. Has not Sir Ismail rejected me, 
for you ? Has he not sworn to marry none but you — while 
you live ? Nevertheless,” continued Nativa after a slight 
i^ause, “ Laurent has told me that I am more beautiful than 
you, and I know that I love Sir Ismail as you never can love. 
All that is not just — confess it. Let it be so — I murmur 
not. I submit — I bow to my doom. You see that I am 
better than you. If any has a right to complain it is I.” 

The dark unblinking eyes of Isabel were fixed upon the 
face of Nativa as she uttered these words. An expression 
first of scorn then of rage passing over the features of the 
haughty Spanish woman, told how deep the words of the 
Buccaneeress entered the heart of Isabel Sandoval. 

‘‘ Nativa,” said Isabel at length, with a spasmodic effort to 
speak calmly, “ pay attention to what I say. My words are 
well worthy of your most serious consideration. Never has 
kind fortune presented a more propitious ojDportunity to 
you.” 

After a pause, of self-recollection and self-composure, Isa- 
bel Sandoval went on in a more winning tone of softness 
and affection. “ My poor girl, your lowly condition forbids 
the idea of your being a riml of mine. The most sensible 
course you can pursue would be to earn by absolute uncon- 
ditional submission my generous protection. I am pleased 
with your frankness and candor, and wish to be kind to 
you. What is your position in the world ? Why, an out- 
lawed woman, the companion of outlaws, any one of whom 
can insult if not outrage you with impunity — one who earns 
her daily bread and glad to get it by means the most debas- 
ing to her sex. Such is your life — cursed by God and anath- 
ematized by the church. If you wiU consent, as I hope 
you will, to lead a new life and stay with me, I will give you 
an honorable position in my household. You shall wear 
the livery of a noble house, and then, after probation, if you 


THE DECOYED. 


383 


deserve it and can fill the duties, I will make you the first 
maid of my chamber ; I will give you a liberal dower, and 
marry you to one of my father’s retainers. Here is a bright 
future for you. You accejpt, do you not ? ” 

As Isabel Sandoval was speaking, Nativa, though she did 
not thoroughly comprehend the tenor and import of the 
words she had heard, felt her cheeks glow with anger and 
her heart swell with indignation. The cruel words of the 
Spanish woman, so unexpected by her to whom they were 
addressed, awakened a feeling hitherto unfelt — wounded 
pride. Nevertheless she permitted her rival to go on vritli- 
out interruption until she had finished. 

Then rose Nativa from her seat, haughty in her innocence 
and beautiful in her j^ride. With serene countenance, fear- 
less eye, and unfaltering tongue, said she, “ Lady, I per- 
ceive that you, in 3"Our ignorance, have made a ver^" awk- 
ward mistake ; otherwise you would never have dared to 
utter those words 3^011 have deluded 3"ourself with. The 
idea, that my position is one that is most debasing of 
humanit3" — that my bread is the wages of sin and dishonor ! 
Know then, lad3', that among those Buccaneers and Fili- 
busters of San Domingo, before whom your cowardly nation 
trembles, there is not one who would not stake his life to 
gratify m3" slightest wish, whim or caprice. All in that 
island-continent love and honor me — all are suitors and 
beggars for m3" smiles. To avenge one insult to me, a hun- 
dred strong arms are eager to strike the guilt3". You call 
yourself a noble lad3" ! a patrician daughter of Spain ! be- 
cause you are served by a gang of wretched negro slaves. 
Grand patent of nobilit3", to be sure ! Draw a comparison 
between your position and mine. I am served by the loyal 
free will of warriors — you are fed and clothed b3" the unwil- 
ling labor of slaves. I am a princess among freemen — ^you 
a taskmistress of serfs. You whiten with anger, Isabel San- 
doval, of Monterey, you scowl with rage. I have a right to 
defend myself. I have heard you patiently. You shall hear 


384 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


me. You liave dared to twit me with your power, rank and 
position. That is too ridiculous. In what does your power 
consist ? In grand houses and palaces built by the sweat of 
a slave’s brow ? Suppose to-morrow our brave Buccaneers 
should burn your cities and liberate your slaves? What 
would you be then ? Nothing. None would be so low as 
to do you homage. I am not so ignorant as you suj)pose. 
I know what city life is — Sir Ismail has oftimes told me of 
the life they lead in cities, the baseness, meanness, hypocri- 
cies of the people of fashion and their accursed thirst for 
gold. But for your father what would you be ? Nothing. 
Why did Laurent tell you last night to your face that you 
were sought, prized, flattered ? Because your father, the 
count of Monterey, was rich. My father’s fortune is a rifle, 
a pack of hounds and a ^^alm thatched house. I am poor — 
3'et all love me and try to please me. I am more y)i^ized 
than you. I am loved for myself. 

‘‘Indeed, lady,” continued Nativa, after a silence of some 
seconds, “ I am astonished at myself. I never could have 
believed that I could have spoken to any one as I have done 
to you. I feel inspired by the crowd of ideas that pass 
through my brain — the horizon lifts. I see many things 
unseen before. I am done. Your alms I reject. That life 
of gilded serfdom to end in marriage with one of your 
father’s valets, is an honor I decline. What I love is the 
solitude of my native forest, the perfume of wild flowers 
and the warbling of birds as free as air and happy as I — in 
a word, liberty. Farewell, lady. You are beautiful but 
wicked. God is just — you will never be happy.” 

Nativa, with her cheeks glowing with animation, her eyes 
glittering with a light Avhich shed a halo over her face, 
looked so angelically beautiful that her haughty rival could 
not suppress an execration of rage and anger. 

“ Be careful, girl ! ” said Isabel, seizing the arm of the 
Buccaneeress with a nervous grasp. “You know not the 
Spaniards. Beflect a little. You see I ‘use persuasion. I 


THE DECOYED, 


385 


admit that I would have deceived in one respect. It is not 
your own personal welfare I seek. I will he frank with you. 
What I want is that you return not to San Domingo. 
Name your price — I will pay it, let it be what it may.” 

‘‘ Ah, how you love him ! ” said Nativa, gazing upon her 
rival’s averted face. “ Oh, that makes my heart bleed. For 
the last time, farewell.” 

Nativa advanced to the door, but Isabel Sandoval threw 
herself before her and barred the passage. 

Ah, do you dare resist ? ” said Isabel. “ Then you com- 
pel me to use force — I shall not hesitate to do so.” Then 
raising her voice she exclaimed, “ Here — Juanito, Jocko, 
Francisco and Canelo — come here.” 

Four negroes ran u]3 from the basement and entered the 
room. These negro slaves were armed with their plantation 
knives or bills. 

Cradled in danger, Nativa had nothing of the woman 
about her, but delicacy, grace and beauty. Her sjDirit was 
masculine in bravery, and the sight of armed slaves did not 
frighten her. 

“Isabel/’ said she with smihng calmness, “I hope for 
your own sake that assassination is not one of your accom- 
plishments.” 

“Obey me — and you have nothing to fear,” said Isabel ; 
“ but if you resist I shall not shrink from any means.” 

“ Not even a crime, Isabel Sandoval, of Monterey,” said 
Nativa. 

“ Not even a crime, Nativa, daughter of nobody and mis- 
tress of everybody,” retorted the patrician daughter of 
Spain. 

“Oh!” exclaimed Nativa, joyfully clapping her hands, 
“ how happy your reckless cruelty and treachery makes me. 
Do you not see that at this very moment you dig an un- 
fathomable and impassible gulf between Ismail Malcolm and 
yourself ? He is too good, too noble, not to detest and dis- 
pise you when he learns your conduct to me. What is rank. 


380 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


wealth and education to you — spoilt child of fortune — when 
you have so little care for y v.ur own happiness ? ” 

“ Bah ! What is the love of Ismail Malcolm to me ? ” 
said Isabel Sandoval, Avith a scornful curl of her lip, smart- 
ing under the cool reprimand from one whom she, but for 
jealousy, Avould have regarded only as dust under her feet. 
“ What I demand and what I shall have, is that you return 
not. to San Domingo, where Laurent can never see or hear 
of you again.” 

“ What do you say ?” said Nativa, startled at the new light 
these words let in on her. “ You astonish me. Do I un- 
derstand that it is not from Ismail Malcolm you Avould se]p- 
arate me, but that it is Laurent, ihcA .” 

“Laurent!” exclaimed Isabel, in a hissing voice and 
with features convulsed with rage. “ I curse him — with all the 
power of my tongue and from the lowest depths of a scorned 
woman’s hell. My voice, my heart, my soul, my life, is for 
vengeance. Laurent, obeying his coarse instincts for coarser 
beauty, misconstming my devotion and unAvorthy of the no- 
ble position I could give him, turns from me to you ! It is 
for this I treat you as a mortal enemy. I strike him in 
you.” 

“ Poor Isabel ! ” said Nativa, in a sympathizing tone of 
pity which touched and softened the fiery Spanish beauty 
in the xfienitude of her Avrath. “How you must suffer! 
But do not forget yourself in the lAresence of your slaves. 
Do you not fear that those creatures Avill rej)eat your Avords 
and set the Avhole city laughing at you ? Sir Ismail has 
taught me that the ladies of the Avorld, to avoid the i^iti- 
less ridicule of society, must Avear one life-enduring mask 
of falsehood and deceit. Order back your slaves — their 
presence is not required here.” 

This lesson, the involuntary suggestion of Nativa’s good 
sense and simplicity, brought a deep blush to the cheeks of 
the haughty Spanish beauty; but to conceal the appearance 
of yielding to what her better judgment told her was pru- 


THE DECOYED 


387 


dent and proper, tliougli it came from the lips of a rival and 
one she regarded as an inferior, Isabel said, “ Promise me, 
then, not to attempt to escape.” 

“ When my friends embark I will follow them,” said Na- 
tiva; “ until they do so I will not leave you. "Sour conver- 
sation is valuable to me. It has revealed many unknown 
things to me. Above all I must learn from you by what 
magic power you have so enchanted Sir Ismail Malcolm.” 

Isabel, turning to the negroes, who stood mute and mo- 
tionless like the supernumaries of the stage in some scenic 
representation, ordered them to retire to the corridor or 
hall without and remain within call. 

Since she had been decoyed into this snare by her rival, 
Nativa so far had kept the vantage ground of the position. 
Once more they were alone. The conversation between 
these rival beauties was renewed. 

“Isabel,” said the Buccaneeress, “I have pondered in 
vain upon your words and I fail to comprehend them fully. 
Think you that -if Laurent loves you not, you can force him 
to do so ? Never. Laurent never yields. And then, I knov/ 
not why, but it seems to me, that were I a man and a wo- 
man would force her love on me, I would shun her presence. 
But let us leave Laurent for a moment and take up the case 
of Sir Ismail Malcolm. Isabel Sandoval, I think' it very 
cruel and wicked in you to make him unhappy if you cannot 
love him. '^Vhy suffer him to believe that you do ? He is 
sad, gloomy, unhappy — that is your work. Why, I say, de- 
lude him with false hopes ? AVhy did you permit him to 
bind himself to you by a solemn oath and covenant ? I am 
satisfied that but for your treachery I, at this time, would 
have been his mistress — (using the word mistress in her 
simplicity as synonomous with the word betrothed.) What 
advantage can you derive from our unhappiness? None 
whatever. You must be very cruel and selfish — I must hate 
you. But listen to me. If you will reveal the means by 
v/hich you became the mistress of Ismail Malcolm I will 
2:)ardon you.” 


3S8 


THE BUCCANEEBS. 


The tone of Nativa was such a sweet contrast with the 
crudity of the words she used that Isabel Sandoval could 
not but appreciate the innocent simplicity of her rival. 
Thus she did not resent the ej)ithet “mistress/' which, in the 
mouth of any other woman would have been an unpardon- 
able insult. 

“Nativa,” said she, to gain time and detain her prisoner 
without the appearance of force, “ men are heartless mon- 
sters who are ignorant of the pure enjoyments of love. One 
passion alone reigns suprepie in their hearts, and that is 
vanity. Their happiness is not in realities but in appear- 
ances. What they desire above all things is not to be loved, 
but that their fellows should believe them to be so and envy 
them their triumph and pander to their self-esteem. A man 
rejected by a woman becomes self-sacrificing, all devotion, 
all tenderness; not that the woman herself is necessary to 
his hap];)iness, but because his personal pride and vanity, 
his reputation as a gallant, is at stake— it cannot brook tho 
idea of depreciation. I have been insensible to the wooing 
of Sir Ismail Malcolm. You have thrown yourself into his 
arms. He persecutes me with his tender devotions — you ho 
rejects. In a word — and the bitter teaching of that word 
has poisoned my life — to he loved, you must not love.’’ 

“ Say not that, Isabel Sandoval ! ” exclaimed Nativa, inter- 
rupting the words her rival was about to utter. “Your words 
freeze the blood in my veins. I cannot believe you. Men 
cannot be thus wicked. God would not permit it. Has Is- 
mail Malcolm ever turned from me in scorn because I loved 
him ? No, never — it is a moral impossibility. Isabel, I pre- 
fer my darkness to your light.” 

“Girl,” said Isabel with an air of j^atronizing pity, “you 
know nothing beyond your semi-barbaric life. You have 
not yet suffered, for the simple reason you have no refined 
sensibilities to be wounded. No, I am not misleading you. 
Behold Laurent — is he not a striking exam^de of the truth 
of what I say ? How can you otherwise account for tho 


THE DECOYED. 


380 


passion -wliicli lie — so haughty in his self-esteem, so magnifi- 
cent in his beauty, so grand in his prowess, so towering in 
his strength — pretends to feel for you, but that your coy- 
ness, real or artificial, has stung his vanity? What are 
you, poor girl, by the side of Laurent ? Less than nothing. 
Yet he bends obsequiously to your wishes, he condescends 
to concern himself about your primitive caprices, and hangs 
enraptured upon your smiles. But if to-morrow you should 
yield to his pretended passions, what a magic change would 
pass over the spirit of the man. The cringing slave would 
become the scowling tyrant, your meek and submissive lover 
an indifferent if not unkind husband. He who kneels at 
your feet to-day will fling you aside disdainfully to-morrow, 
and perhaps refuse to recognize you in the street.” 

“ But,” said Nativa, “ if you do not believe in the exist- 
ence of love, how comes it that you seek to detain me and 
prevent Laurent from ever seeing me again ? If all men 
are by nature heartless and treacherous egotists, with guile 
on their lips and evil in their hearts, as you contend, why 
curse Laurent for obeying a law of nature ? He cannot be 
otherwise than what he is. You are silent — you cannot an- 
swer,” continued Nativa, after a slight pause. “ It is ob- 
vious that you seek to mislead me, and that you are speak- 
ing falsely. But no, you are only suffering. I was wrong 
to add the sting of words to the wounds of a bleeding 
heart. Yes, you believe what you utter. What you feel for 
Laurent I have more recently felt for Sir Ismail Malcolm. 
You can imagine that I suffered myself to behold him with 
an evil eye — to speak of him with a foul tongue. Heed I 
teU you what thoughts, foul thoughts, burned in my heart, 
when I learned, alas, too late, that he loved you. Ah, well — 
the bitterness of those blasting thoughts told me that he 
was the more dear to me — that without him life was intoler- 
able. Only his presence was painful to me — yet I was un- 
willing to lose sight of him. This is your case with Lau- 
rent. You love him still.” 


390 


TUB BUCCANEERS. 


“ How incomprehensible is love muttered Isabel San- 
doval. “ It levels all distinctions; it regards not the birth 
or rank of its victims. Is it not too humiliating that that 
vagabond damsel should read at a glance the unwritten page 
of my heart’s dark history? That she — even she — should 
be j)assing through the same purgatorial ordeal that I am ?” 

“Yes, Nativa,” continued Isabel, raising her voice, too 
happy to give vent to her stifiled emotions, “ in spite of his 
cruelty to me, in spite of outrage too bitter for human 
j)ride, I love Laurent. It is a fatality, it is a doom. I know 
it is folly the most stupendous — but what must I do ? I 
repeat it, I love him. In vain my pride revolts, my reason 
forbids; in vain I look with fearful heart and tearful eyes 
down the precipice 3’^awning before my feet; in vain I hear 
myself cursed by my father and anathematized by my church 
and scorned by the world. But what must I do ? I repeat 
it, I love him. If I have crushed 3^our heart you have been 
fearfully avenged. If you knew my sufferings you would 
weep with me. Peaceful slumbers, tranquil hours, the in- 
nocent joys and pleasures of my sex and age are fled forever. 
One sole passion, truceless and j^itiless, holds me in its iron 
grasp, to torture me — Laurent loves me not. Then terrible 
thoughts pass through my brain. I curse Laurent — I seek 
vengeance — I am mad. Then to think that if Laurent, in- 
stead of scornfully mocking my passion, would, and could 
if he would, appreciate my devotion, my self-sacrificing 
generosity, and render himself worthy of obtaining my hand 
from my father — what a bright life mine would be, how kind 
I should feel for the whole world, how I could rejoice with 
the joyful and weep -with the afflicted. I was not born 
wicked, Nativa; on the contrary. But no — ^it was my fate 
in the morning of my life to meet a monster. Alas! my God, 
when will all this end ! ” 

Isabel, overcome by her emotions, covered her face with 
her hands and burst into a paroxysm of sobs and tears. 

“My good friend,” said Nativa, drawing near her, “say no 


THE DECOYED. 


391 


more. I realize what yon feel. You are truly to be pitied. 
A moment ago, when you spoke to me so haughtily, I retort- 
ed. Pardon me. Let me condole with and console you. 
Laurent has lately changed very much for the better. I 
should not be at all astonished to learn that he repents and 
loves you sincerely. Weep no more — embrace me.” 

As Nativa advanced to her afflicted rival, with all the ten- 
derness of her natural sympathy, the haughty Castilian re- 
coiled from her arms, and hastily wiping away her tears, said, 
in an imperious tone, “Sta^^ where you are, Nativa; presume 
not on a momentary weakness of mine to treat me as your 
equal. How low, great God, have I fallen — when this fe- 
male companion of a gang of robbers from Tortuga presumes 
to offer me her .condolence, to embrace the daughter of a 
Spanish grandee as her sister in misfortune ! ” 

For this insult, so unprovoked, so unmerited, which Isa- 
bel Sandoval returned for her rival’s condolence and sym- 
l^athy, Nativa felt neither anger or resentment. 

Gently bowing her head with resignation and sorrow, Na- 
tiva advanced a second time to the door of the apartment. 
Isabel again intervened and barred her egress. 

‘‘ Lady,” said Nativa, ‘'you have just seen that your sable 
body-guards do not terrify me. To what purpose do you 
make a similar ex]3eriment. If Laurent should cry unto 
you, Isabel come to me, 1 love you, and a thousand men should 
stand between 3^ou and your lover, you would not hesitate 
an instant to dash through them though it cost you your 
life. Well, I know that Ismail will soon do me justice, ac- 
knowledge my superior claims and give me his affections. 
You may now conceive that nothing but death will stay me. 
Kemember too that I am armed, and this carbine in my 
hands is not a useless toy.” 

Without replying to Nativa, Isabel threw open the door 
and said to the slaves, “ Men, if this heretic woman, this 
Buccaneer strumpet, attempts to get into the street cut her 
to pieces with your knives; and for your prompt obedience 


392 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


to orders I will give yon your freedom, two ounces of gold 
apiece and a cask of aguardiente.” 

A joyful growl — ^like that made l3y famished bears when 
them food is thrown to them — was heard from the end of 
the corridor where the negroes were grouped. 

“You hear!” said Isabel to her prisoner. “Try now to 
escape if you dare. Slaves, for their freedom, gold and 
liquor, will massacre their young children and aged parents.” 

“ Isabel Sandoval,” said Nativa, in a tone more of sorrow 
than anger, “ I could never have believed you guilty of such 
an infamous act. Madness rules you. I hope that with a 
little reflection better counsels will prevail. The signal for 
embarkation has not yet been given and I will wait until I 
hear it.” 

ISTativa then Avithdrew into one of the corners of the room 
and stood leaning on her carbine, ready for any emergency 
she might have to meet. 

The face of Nativa revealed more sorrow than fear. She 
pitied Isabel Sandoval ; she pondered in sadness upon the 
wreck and ruin Avhich the storm of human passions had left 
in the heart of one Avhose beauty, rank and Avealth should 
have rendered the happiest of earth’s children. 

While the life and liberty of hfativa were thus threatened, 
Laurent and his Buccaneers Avere Avaiting at the cathedral 
for the collection and delivery of the ransom money they 
had imposed upon the city of Granada. 

“ Comrade,” said Laurent, in a Avhisper to Malcolm, “ our 
triumph is not complete. The honor of the Te Deiim is 
shared by our crew. Our honor requires that Ave signalize 
ourselves by some feat, the danger of which our shipmates 
can neither share nor participate in. Have you any sugges- 
tion to make ? ” 

“By my faith, no,” exclaimed Malcolm. The terrified 
city trembles and cowers before us now. It would be folly 
to insult, still less exasperate, a crushed enemy by any odious, 
abominable outrage, which I cannot entertain, and which I 


THE DECOYED 393 

hope you are incapable of doing. Does any idea present 
itself to you ? ” 

“ ZoundS; comrade,” said Laurent, “your moralizing has 
suggested the idea — now I have a plan. It is a useless for- 
mality to ask you if you Avill share the danger and glory of 
it, is it not ? ” 

“ Certainly, if the plan is an honorable one,” replied Mal- 
colm. 

“ Oh, as to that,” said Laurent, with a smile, without ap- 
pearing to take in the misgivings of his associate, too well 
justified by his antecedents, “ as to that, fear nothing. For 
some time past I have been in a virtuous mood. The execu- 
tion of my project can compromise nobody but ourselves. 
It will not cost the city of Granada another drop of blood, 
or a shilling.” 

“Well, what is this plan?” asked Malcolm. 

“ The most simple and reasonable,” replied Laurent; ‘‘the 
logical result of our position. Last night we were trapped 
and caged like wild beasts, and this morning had to fly in- 
gloriously from the enemy. Our self-respect requires satis- 
faction, and all the honors of a triumph.” 

“I do not clearly comprehend you,” said Malcolm; “be a 
little more explicit.” 

“ It would be a useless waste of words,” said Laurent. 
“ I am satisfied with the feasibility of my plan — that is suffi- 
cient. I will return in a moment.” 

Laurent, leaving Malcolm, went to one of the Spanish 
merchants whom the Buccaneers had detained as a hostage 
for the payment of the half million levied on the city. 

Malcolm, following with his eyes the movements of his 
associate, remarked the astonishment which the Spaniard 
exhibited when Laurent had spoken a few words to him. 
Then he saw the ranks of the Buccaneers open and give a 
free passage to the hostage, who hurried away. 

After the lapse of a quarter of an hour the sound of ap- 
proaching military music was heard, and caused a stir among 


394 


THE B UGCANEER8. 


those in the cathedi-al. The Buccaneers thought that it was 
an attack from the' Spaniards, and stood on the defensive. 

“ Keep cool, shipmates,” said Laurent to his men; “it is 
only our good friends, the Granadians, coming to return 
thanks in their grand ceremonious way, for the honor of our 
visit.” 

While Laurent was speaking eight Spaniards, bearing a 
magnificent sedan chair, covered with gold cloth,' appeared. 

“ Comrade,” continued he, addressing himself to Malcolm, 
“you see how popular we are with the Granadians, and 
how properly we are appreciated. It would be churlish 
in us to refuse the civilities of the good people, and 
hide ourselves from the admiring eyes of the fair dames of 
this city. Come — take a seat by me ; we will take a prome- 
nade through the city. It will remind you of our first meet- 
ing at Lcogane ; besides, I am passionately fond of music — 
let us go.” 

Although the peril of this freak appeared to border upon 
the insanity of rashness, yet its drollery appeared so unique 
and original to Malcolm, that he could not forbear roaring 
■with laughter as he took his seat in the sedan chair beside 
his chief Then the music struck up, and the cortege 
moved on. 

“ You are tempting death, comrade,” said Malcolm, in a 
whisper to Laurent. “ This must necessarily exasperate to 
desperation the populace. We cannot get out of this 
“triumph,’ as you call it, alive.” 

“ I assure you,” said Laurent, “ that the Granadians doat 
upon us. See how pleased and happy they look when we 
condescend to notice them. Besides, I have taken precau- 
tions to satisfy them that our promenade entails no humilia- 
tion on them ; on the contrary, listen and see, how meek I 
bear the blushing honors of triumph.” 

The procession halted, an officer of the city militia, v/ho 
pi eceded it, after commanding silence, proclaimed in a loud 
voice, “ Citizens of Granada, here is Captain Laurent, who 


THE DECO YED. 395 

has graciously come in person to pay his respects to the good 
people of this city. Give him three cheers.” 

The cheers were given, and Latirent, after bowing his 
thanks, taking up a sack of doubloons which lay at his feet, 
threw its contents by handfuls among the crowd. The 
leperos, who constitute a large proportion of a crowd in a 
Spanish city, eagerly scrambled for the gold pieces, shouting 
with all the force of their lungs, ‘Hurrah for Captain Lau- 
rent ! ” 

“ In our turn wc salute, comrade,” said Laurent. To 
see that our presence diffuses such joy, brings tears in my 
eyes. How happy it is to be loved ! ” 

The audacious . impertinence of the Buccaneer displayed 
such thorough confidence in his power, and in such a straight- 
forward manner, that not a single citizen of that insulted 
city who heard this sarcastic raillery for a moment enter- 
tained the idea of resenting it. 

As this procession moved along, the crowd bowed and 
saluted with a feeling of half resj)ect and half fear. As to 
the leperos their acclamations were sincere. Was not the 
triumph of the Buccaneers, they argued, the degradation of 
the rich and the powerful — their lordly masters. That argu- 
ment was sufficient for the lazzaroni of a Spanish city. 

This unique triumphal procession was returning to the 
cathedral, square, when Malcolm, nervously grasping the arm 
of Laurent, said to him in a quick, agitated tone, “ Do you 
hear ? ” 

“ Of course, I hear the blessings of my people^' said Lau- 
rent. “ I am not deaf, comrade.” 

“ No jfieasantry, Laurent,” said Malcolm. “It seems to 
me that I heard Nativa calling for help.” 

“ Nativa, indeed ! ” said Laurent. “ What an idea ! But, 
by the by, it is not impossible.” 

Laurent, rising in his seat, with an imperial wave of his 
hand, shouted, “ Silence ! ”, 

There was a breathless silence, 


396 


THE BUGGAHEEB8. 


At this instant there was heard the sharp report of a rifle 
in the interior of a house just opposite them, followed by 
the cry of, “ Help ! Ismail, help ! ” 

“ They are murdering her,” exclaimed Malcolm, springing 
from the sedan and making for the door of the house whence 
came the report. 

“ Hell and furies ! ” shouted Laurent, following him ; 
“ death to the assassins ! We are coming, Nativa ! ” 

Malcolm threw himself with all the weight and strength 
of his body against the door. 

The bolts yielded and the door flew open. 

Nativa stood in the corridor, pale but composed, with 
her carbine in her hand, with a light cloud of gunpowder 
smoke curling and eddying above her head. “ Oh,” she ex- 
claimed, seeing Malcolm, “ I knew that God would not desert 
me!” 

“Hativa, my sister, where are the wretches who were 
seeking your life ! ” exclaimed Malcolm, foaming with rage. 

“I have had the misfortune to kill one of them,” said 
Nativa. “Let us go away quickly — come, I implore you.” 

“No, Nativa,” said Malcolm, “I will punish the assassins, 
though it cost me my life. Justice shall be done.” 

“ Why not let them alone — I implore you,” said Nativa, 
beseechingly. “ Are they not citizens of a sacked city, and 
we the spoilers and invaders ? Let us flee this place, 
Ismail.” 

Malcolm, regardless of the prayers and tears of Nativa, 
pushed by her towards the extremity of the corridor, and 
there he found a negro slave, lying on the floor, bleeding 
from a wound in his breast. 

“ Ah, wretch 1 ” exclaimed Malcolm, cleaving his skull 
with his cutlass, “ there is no quarter for you.” 

Seeing the basement staircase before him Malcolm was 
about to descend, when Laurent called out, “ Come here, 
comrade — here is the guilty one.” 

This time he was compelled to use force to enter the 


THE DECOYED. 


397 


room where Laurent called, so obstinately did Nativa dis- 
pute his entrance. 

But, what was the dismay of Malcolm upon entering the 
room where ISTativa had been held m durance, to behold - 
Isabel Sandoval. 

Near her stood Laurent with folded arms, scowling upon 
her with an indescribable expression of scorn and hatred. 

“ Isabel — you here ! By what mischance ? ” exclaimed 
Malcolm, a terrible light breaking in on him — tortured with 
horrible suspicions. 

“ It is not mischance that brings the assassin and the 
victim together,” was the sarcastic sneer of Laurent. 

Although these words admitted of no prevarication, yet 
Malcolm, with 'the despair of a drownmg man clutching at 
straws, essayed to doubt. “ No, no, — it is impossible. I am 
mad — I have vertigo ! ” he exclaimed, passing his hand con- 
vulsively across his brow. “ Isabel, how came this ? In 
mercy speak ! ” 

But Isabel Sandoval neither replied nor did she appear 
to hear him. Her whole soul was in her eyes, and those 
eyes were fixed upon Laurent with such abstraction that she 
was unconscious of what was passing around her. 

“ Isabel ! ” exclaimed Malcolm, taking her by the arm and 
shaking her as if to arouse her from what appeared to him a 
somnambulic stupor, “ tell me how is it I find you here under 
such circumstances, with Nativa?” 

The lips of Isabel parted with a ghastly smile. “ Nativa,” 
said Isabel, like one talking in sleep, “ is a low creature. I 

ordered my slaves to kill her — because Laurent loves her 

— and I love Laurent.” 

At these words Malcolm uttered a cry like the last gasp 
of a drowning man, staggered, and fell to the floor. 

“Ismail, do not believe her — she lies. She does love 
you!” exclaimed Nativa, kneeling by him and raising his 
head in her arms. 


398 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


CHAPTEK XLIII. 

LE e6vEIL. 

The physical prostration of Malcolm was transient, and 
quickly followed the reaction of youthful blood and manly 
vigor. The first object his eyes met was Xativa bending 
over him. But the mental demoralization was such that 
some seconds elapsed before he was able to connect two 
consecutive ideas. It was««iot until he saw Isabel Sandoval 
cowering in the most remote corner of the room, that he 
could review what had just passed. 

He arose and, gently putting aside Hativa, who sought to 
restrain him, went to Isabel. 

“ Isabel Sandoval,” said he, in a clear and distinct voice, 
“ expect from me neither reproaches or lamentations. God 
is my judge, that if you had not sought the life of Hativa 
I should have felt for you neither anger or hatred. Your 
conduct has been that of a fiend — but done tinder the influ- 
ence of the evil one. Scorned love, I know too well, ren- 
ders the tenderest hearts unloving and pitiless. I alone 
am culpable. I loved you in the delusive folly of youthful 
hope. I mistook the affability of a lady for the love of a 
vmnan. A bandage has fallen from my eyes. I see the 
past, not through the prism of passion, but with the an- 
alytic lens of reason. You have never loved me; you could 
not have done so with every exertion you could have made. 
Isabel, we part to meet no more, unless it is in heaven. 
One word more, ere we part. I have sworn to marry none 
other while you live. A gentleman can never be false to 
his word. Your treason does not release me from my bond. 
You found me in all the brightness of hope, the fond antici- 
pations of a future, all the enthusiasm of youth. You leave 
me in all the desolation of a bleeding heart, wherein crushed 


LE RJ^VEIL. 


399 


affections dwell — untimely old age seeking no other repose 
but that of the tomb. It is not to reproach you that I utter 
these words, but lest some day the recollection of this deep 
wrong stings you to repentance, and you would call me 
back again. Crush that repentant thought in your heart. 
You will no longer see the enthusiastic dreamer of cape 
Henry, but a skeptical old man, believing in nothing but the 
stern realities of life’s bitterness. Isabel Sandoval, of Mon- 
terey, now and forever, farewell.” 

Malcolm was grand in his grief and sublime in liis sorrow. 
Isabel Sandoval cowered beneath his tearless eyes and shud- 
dered when he had ceased speaking. 

“ Sir Ismail Malcolm,” said she, in a voice scarcely above 
a w'hisper, ‘‘your forgiveness is the most terrible act of 
vengeance you can inflict upon me. I will not attempt the 
folly of justification. You, who have so fondly loved me, 
can well understand how scorned love and mortified pride 
change the character of a woman. Crushed and blasted as 
I was in my bitterness and humiliation, I became a scoffer 
and disbeliever in man’s love or honor. When it was fated 
for you to cross my path all men had become in my eyes 
vile and heartless egotists. These antecedents must at least 
explain, if not palliate my conduct to you. Nevertheless, 
outlawed as I am of womanly sympathy, I ask your pity. I 
have suffered so much that you can, without unmanly weak- 
ness, pity and forgive me ; and in the convent where I go, 
to await that dread hour when an all-merciful God will re- 
ceive me into life eternal, I will ever pray for you. Fare- 
v/ell.” 

The penitence, the suffering, the self-abasement of Isabel, 
deeply affected Malcolm; but knowing the danger and 
folly of prolonging the interview, he replied with a silent 
and respectful bow. 

“ Cheer up, my Ismail,” said Nativa, taking his hand in 
both of hers. “ You have been noble and generous to her; 
and God will bless you. Heretofore when you called me 


400 


THE BUUGANEEUS. 


your sister, I shrank from that worc^ — I know not why, — 
but now it sounds like sweet music I hear in my dreams. 
Remember those happy days when we sat beneath the shade 
of our grand old forest — so swiftly glided the hours by that 
night stole upon us unawares in the mellow twilight of that 
sunless space. We will go back again to that land of a 
bright sky and beautiful flowers, and part no more. When 
you are sad I will weep with you — it will be hajDpiness for 
me to Aveep with, you. Let us go away from here.” 

The words of JSTativa, Avho looked beautiful in her sym- 
pathy and angelic in her innocence, so affected Isabel San- 
doval that she burst into a flood of tears. “Nativa,” said 
she, in a broken A^oice, “you have indeed humbled me. 
Your pure and innocent love has crushed my pride. Na- 
tiva, forgive me.” 

Words like these from the lips of her haughty rival 
startled and troubled Nativa. “ Isabel Sandoval,” said she, 
“ you are already too unhappy — I should not add to your 
sufferings by the sting of Avords but my lips are unskilled 
in the guile of falsehood. Why should I seek to deceive ? 
You have seen that I cannot utter Avhat I do not feel. I 
know too well that you ordered your slaves to kill me, and 
that you addressed me in vile epithets. You had lost your 
reason. For all that I feel no resentment. But Avhat I can- 
not forgive, though not from revenge, is the sorroAV you have 
so heartlessly inflicted upon Ismail Malcolm. He has passed 
— ^but not Avith years — from joyous youth to lonely, sorrow- 
ing age. After all, that is more your misfortune than fault. 
Born and reared as you have been, among the hollo av- 
hearted men and Avomen of the Avorld, you could not Avell 
do otherAvise. When, from “Sir Ismail’s teaching, I learnt 
hoAV ignorant I was, I blushed for shame. Roav I tremble 
in the light of knoAAdedge. Yes, the more I reflect, the less 
guilty I find you. I can do no more, Isabel Sandoval — I 
pity you.” 

. The reply of Hativa appeared to make a deep impression 


LE RtVEIL. 


4ei 

upon Isabel. For a time she stood silent and pensive ; then 
raising her haughty head and addressing herself to Laurent, 
who so far had stood and looked in moody silence on the 
scene : “ Laurent,” said she, in a voice clear and calm, “ God 
endowed me with a heart fond, truthful and devoted co those 
I love ; but your heartless baseness has stifled those feel- 
ings and filled that heart with bitterness, selfishness, hatred. 
My ruin is your work. Laurejit, I curse you ! ” 

“ I thank you, lady,” said he, with a smile, “ for your ten- 
der adieu. It brings the ennui of a blase flirtation to a 
close. I must confess that, skeptical and practical as I am, 
I am a little superstitious about curses ; sometimes I regard 
them as blessings in disguise, at other times they appear 
ominous. To have my doubts resolved I have long sought 
to be cursed — you have graciously done that act of benevo- 
lence. Now I have nothing to do but to let the future solve 
the problem. Tender and devoted lady, I am your very 
grateful and humble servant.” 

With a low bow and haughty stride Laurent walked to 
the door and called the bearers of the sedan chair. 

“ Let us complete our promenade,” said he to Malcolm ; 
“ the good people are impatient to feast their eyes upon us.” 

“ Thank you, Laurent,” said Malcolm, dryly, offering his 
arm to Nativa ; “ I am in no mood for practical jokes. We 
will follow you on foot.” 

“ Let it be so,” said Laurent, with a curl of his lip ; “ it is 
quite right for you to leave me ‘ Glory ’ while you take 
‘ Love.’ ” 

Laurent seated himself in the sedan, the music began, and 
the procession moved on. 

“ Alas ! ” muttered Laurent, casting a furtive look of envy 
upon Malcolm and Nativa, here I am all alone in my glory. 
By the gods, I have been blundering into a false position. 
My forte is not Arcadian. The sentimental is as foreign to 
my nature as it is worthless in my eyes. To vitalize a 
withered heart is to quicken the dead — the folly of impossi- 


402 


THE BUGGANEEUS. 


bility. Decidedly I blundered in taking Malcolm for a mate 
or allowing myself to be caught in N^ativa’s net. Satiated 
lust, power, gold, revelry and battle — they are the kindred 
spirits of my soul — they are the ministering angels that 
bring the cooling waters of oblivion to my burning lips. 
But Nativa is such a beautiful type of virtue and innocence. 
Bah ! it is all a humbug. I have made a fool of myself 
about her ! She is devoted, chaste, virtuous — because she 
is too rustic to be otherwise ! Let her once taste the for- 
bidden fruit, and lo, our prude will be as bad as the other 
Cyprians of Leogane ! But she is so beautiful in her maiden- 
hood that I must have her — because it will amuse me for a 
week, and that is seven days gained in the battle of time. 
As to Malcolm — why fret about him ? When we cease to 
be comrades I will see him but as an obstacle, and I always 
remove obstacles.” 

When Laurent reached the cathedral he found all ready 
for embarkation. The citizens of Granada, in their eager- 
ness to get rid of such troublesome visitors, had carried 
their complaisance so far as to bring pack mules, to carry the 
half million of dollars, levied on the city, to the barges. In 
an hour more the Buccaneers stood on the deck of their 
frigate in full sail for the mouth of the river San Juan. The 
next day they were out on the open sea. 

The Buccaneers, intoxicated at the successful issue of this 
expedition, the immense booty they had acquired and the 
voluptuous enjoyments Laurent had promised them in Ja- 
maica, insisted uj^on the fulfillment of that promise; and 
the chief, ever the slave of his word, stood his ‘course for 
Kingston in Jamaica. 

But a great change had come over the spirit of the bold 
Buccaneer, after he had left Granada. 

He was now constantly seated at his table with a circle of 
veteran Buccaneers around him — the choicest of wines was 
ever flowing, the violins playing, and the dice rolling, — it 
was by dice that many quadrupled their prize money. 


TUE GALLEONB. 


403 


CHAPTEE XLIV. 

THE GALLEOXS. 

Malcolm:, with Xativa and Jalman, whenever the duties 
of his command permitted, was puzzled at the altered con- 
duct of his chief. However much he might condemn this 
relapse into coarse animal enjoyments, he could hut admire 
the manner with which Laurent preserved his personal self- 
respect and the dignity of his rank among such boon com- 
panions. 

Laurent, seated in a high arm-chair at the head of his 
table, while the old salts he admitted to his companionship 
were seated at a respectful distance on low stools, permitted 
none to wear their hats in his presence or seat themselves 
uninvited. Like Tiberius Caesar at a feast, with his wine 
glass in his hand, he exacted their respect ; and, with his im- 
perial rank and authority, a look was sufficient to sober the 
most intoxicated — a frown silenced the most reckless in their 
cups. " 

It was the third day at sea; the golden dawn of the 
tropics was just breaking in the east. Malcolm, wrapt in 
his cloak, was taking a morning nap on the quarter deck 
lounge, when at the cry of “ Sail to the windward,” from the 
mizzen top, he sprang to his feet, and found Laurent at his 
side. 

“ What do they signal, comrade ? ” was the eager inquiry 
of Malcolm. 

“ Two ships,” replied Laurent, with a pleasing smile ; “ I 
know them— I have been expecting them.” 

“ You seem to be pleased,” said Malcolm, smiling in sym- 
pathy. 

“ Of course ; good news always pleases me,” said Laurent. 


404 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


“ Then they are merchantmen — a good prize,” said Mal- 
colm. 

“ On the contery, they are ships of war, and will give ns 
a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull altogetlier, for our 
lives,” said Laurent, mimicking the twang of a forcastleman 
at the hawser. “ But why should I tantalize you? You 
wish to reap your harvest of laurels ; you dream of gallant 
actions and great battles, do you not, comrade ? ” 

“ ISTo, no,” said Malcolm, in a hollow voice, “ that dream 
of folly is past. I want the repose of peace and obliv- 
ion.” 

“ That is to say,” said Laurent, “ annihilation and death. 
Well, sir, your hopes may soon be gratified. Those sails 
you see looming under the horizon are bearing down on us 
with two of the best manned galleons of the Spanish navy. 
One is commanded by an admiral and the other by a vice- 
admiral. A galleon is an admiral officer’s command in the 
Spanish service. Each one of those ships carries sixty pieces 
of that enormous ship artillery cast at Cadiz for the armandas 
of Philip II., and a crew of one thousand men each. I told 
you I expected them. Well, when we were besieged in the 
Monterey house, it flashed upon me that I had committed 
a great blunder in releasing that man Coade until we Avere 
ready to embark, and I knoAv as Avell as though I had seen 
it, that the moment he was clear of us he went to Port Car- 
tago, just twenty miles beloAV the mouth of the San Juan, 
as fast as a full-blooded mustang could carry him, and told 
the post admiral Avhat was the state of affairs in Granada. 
He calculated that Ave could not tear ourselves from the de- 
lightful female society of Granada under a Aveek or ten days, 
and that Avould give them ample time to cork up the narrow 
mouth of the San Juan river Avith one or two of those largo 
armed arks they call galleons, modeled a century ago by 
Philip II. to scare the English. They got to the mofith of 
the river prcbably the day after we left ; they are on our 
track with strong fair Avind, the only wind the un wieldly 


THE GALLEONS. 405 

crafts Vv^ith their high castellated poops and square acres of 
canvas, can sail with.” 

“ Had you found them in the mouth of the San Juan, wh.at 
would you have done ? ” said Malcolm, wishing to fathom 
the fertile resources of his superior. 

“ Why, what we may have to do novq” said Laurent, with 
a smile — “ put a trusty fellow in the magazine with a lighted 
match, and when we are hors de combat haul down our flag, 
let our adversaries come alongside, make a sky-rocket of 
the whole and go to kingdom come, like Elisha, in a full 
blaze of glory.” 

“ Do you intend to give battle,” said Malcolm, “ in the 
open sea, against such odds, when simply by tacking and 
running by the wind we can leave them hull down in an 
hour ? ” 

“ Do I intend to give battle, indeed? ” said Laurent, in a 
tone of mocking raillery. “ Do you think that my heart is 
so softened by love that there is nothing of the Captain 
Laurent left ? liest assured, comrade, that rather than sur- 
render to the Spaniards or, what is worse, fly ingloriously 
from them, I will go to my brimstone father, the devil. I 
will speak further with you on the subject ; at present let 
us attend to our business.” 

Laurent, putting his trumpet to his lips, ordered the ship 
to be cleared for action. To the coolness and daring of his 
crew Laurent had added a discipline more rigid than any 
that could be found in the navies of Europe. 

Although the approach of the enemy was only manifest in 
two white specks only visible in the gray twilight of dawn, 
and no immediate danger threatened the Buccaneers, yet the 
ship was cleared for action in a twinkling without the slight- 
est appearance of haste or rest. In a few seconds the board- 
in*^ nets were filled in with sacks of cork to deaden the 
effects of broadsides or the attrition of collision. The arms 
chests v/ere opened ; dark lanterns lit, with their dull, strag- 
gling rays, the powder magazine ; the non-combatants, that 


406 


THE B UGGANEERS. 


is to say, cooks, musicians, stewards, were marshaled to pass 
up the ammunition to the gun deck and to pass down the 
wounded to the cockpit; fire-proof ammunition boxes, 
filled with cartridges, were put in their places ; sponge ram- 
mers and wipers in the gun racks ; water buckets filled and 
Imtstocks lighted ; and finally — a sight always disagreeable 
to a sailor or soldier, who, however he may brave death, al- 
ways shrinks from the idea of being a helpless cripple — the 
surgeon opened his case of j)olished steel implements, keen 
operating knives and saws for amputation; all this being 
done in less time than it could be described. 

Laurent ordered all the light sails which had been pre- 
viously taken in to be unfurled again, so as to increase the 
speed of the frigate in scudding from the enemy. 

This order gave rise to some murmurs and sharp criti- 
cisms among the crew. 

“ Shipmates,” said Laurent to them, with an affability and 
condescension which he never used except on the eve of bat- 
tle, “ moderate your impatience a little, and above all be 
cautious how you criticise my orders. You are certainly 
bold and daring men ; many of you have commanded ships, 
but believe me, if all of your bravery and experience were 
embodied in one man it would not make one Laurent. Once 
for all, remember I never excuse myself or others. You 
are impatient for battle. Calm and compose yourselves. 
I promise you one of the grandest fights old ocean has ever 
seen.” 

These words stopped all murmurs and comments. Gas- 
conade never came from the mouth of Laurent. 

After two hours’ chase if was evident that one of the 
Spanish ships was gaining upon, the Buccaneer frigate. Her 
immense surface of canvas, well-ballasted hull, and strong 
fair wind gave the Spanish galleon a preponderating advan- 
tage over the Buccaneer frigate, sunk to the bends with the 
spoil of a sacked city. 

The second galleon, apparently a dull sailer, gradually 


THE GALLEONS. 407 

dropped astern, and at every second widened the distance 
which separated her from her consort. 

At ten o’clock in the morning the Buccaneer lookouts 
could make out the full proportions of their formidable ad- 
versary — one of those leviathans of Spanish naval architec- 
ture called galleons, so graphically described by the his- 
torians of the reign of Philip II. of Spain. 

However brave those bold rovers of the sea were, the 
sight of that lowering castellated hulk moving over the deep 
with its bellying clouds of canvas like rolling avalanches 
of snow whirling through space — foreshadowing that terri- 
ble battle on the high seas which Laurent had predicted — 
quickened the pulsations of their iron hearts and paled their 
bronzed cheeks, but not with fear. 

In the meantime Laurent promenaded his quarter deck, 
exchanging commonplace observations with Malcolm, ap- 
parently ignoring the approach of the chase. Suddenly 
raising his trumpet he hailed one of the foretop lookouts. 

“ What is the Don doing now ? ” said he. 

“ Taking in his royal and topgallant sails and reefing main- 
sail and foresail. He has brought more wind with him than 
he can carry,” was the reply. 

“Very well,” said Laurent; and turning to Malcolm, 

“ Take in light sails — close haul, and tack across the Span- 
iard’s track.” 

Malcolm hastened to put this order in execution, and 
Laurent resumed his quarter deck promenade. 

In a half-hour more the Buccaneer frigate , and the Span- 
ish galleon were within three miles of each other. 

“ How stands the- hidalgo now ? ” said Laurent. 

“ He has tacked to keep the weather gage of us,” said a 
mizzento]3man. 

“ Is he far ? ” continued Laurent. 

“Ho — we can see everything plainly on his spar deck,” 
said a maintopman. 

Laurent stood for a few moments musing, and then, with 


408 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


a voice ringing through his trumpet and which seemed to 
make the timbers of the frigate quiver, shouted, “ All hands 
aft ! ” 

The Buccaneer crew ran aft with a celerity commensu- 
rate with their eagerness to hear what their chief had to say 
at this solemn hour. 

Laurent swept the compact mass with a glance — a smile 
beamed upon his lips. The bronzed and determined faces, 
the flashing eyes of that mass, assured him that he could 
depend on them to the last of their blood and their breath. 

“ Brethren of the sea,” said he, you have been too often 
and too well tried to be ignorant of the j^eril you now incur, 
and you are too brave to fear it. Here we must do all — 
dare all — and brave all — that can look death out of coun- 
tenance. We must attend and defend at the same time. 
Valor, tact, rashness, even despair, must be put in requisi- 
tion now. If we fall into the hands of our enemies we must 
expect the most infamous treatment, the most cruel tor- 
ments and the most ignominious death. To escape their 
barbarity we must fight.” 

“Yes — let us fight!” exclaimed many tongues with one 
voice. 

Laurent bowed his approval, and there was silence. Then 
he went on : “ Shipmates, your ardor does not surprise me 
— I am accustomed to it. However, I owe you an explana- 
tion. If for the last few hours I have fled before the enemy 
it was, as you must ere this have observed, if you have re- 
marked the great distance between our enemies, to separate 
them. So long as we keep the admiral to the windward of 
us, his consort must keep to the windward of him, or part 
company ; in either case we Lave but one to deal with at a 
time. I regard our victory over both certain and sure. But 
if by any unforeseen accident we are defeated, I desire that 
our defeat be a triumph and our death a martyrdom. 
Requin, come forward.” 

At the mention of this name a Buccaneer of an impassive 


THE OALLEONS, 


409 

and stolid expression, with a skin so tanned by the tropical 
sun that he resembled a mulatto, stepped out of the ranks 
and stood by the side of the Buccaneer chief. This Requin 
was one of those souls of iron and hearts of bronze — one of 
those singular organizations, keen, quick and decisive in ac- 
tion, but otherwise dull, stupid and listless — of which anom- 
alies Buccaneer annals present so many exemplars. Gov- 
erned by an irrepressible instinct of destruction, the element 
of Requin was battle. In the midst of blood and carnage 
his stolid face shone with a radiant expression of joy, and 
his dull eye sparkled with ferocity — but the storm of battle 
over, the enemy conquered, he was changed ; he relapsed 
into the loutish indifference of a dolt, who was careless even 
of the ordinary wants and necessities of life, or incapable of, 
connecting two ideas together. Like the guillotine, he was 
a sure, pitiless, unfailing, unfeeling engine of destruction, but 
required a master hand to put him in operation. None 
obeyed their orders so blindly and so exactly as Requin, 
when they suited his sanguinary tastes. 

Standing with rigid erectness and motionless, Requin 
awaited his orders without any symptom of curiosity or im- 
patience. 

“ Old friend,” said Laurent to him, with a smile, “ I wish 
to give you some token of my distinguished consideration.” 

The stolid face of Requin showed no sign of gratitude or 
comprehension.^ 

Laurent continued : “ During the battle you will stand 
in the powder magazine with a lighted match, and at the 
order I will give you — or in case of my death, an order from 
Sir Ismail Malcolm, my successor — you will blow up the 
frigate. Do you understand ? ” • 

“ Perfectly,” said Requin, with a smile upon his harsh and 
warty face. 

“ I can depend on you, I know,” said his chief, proudly. 
“Now go to your post.” 

Requin took a coil of twisted spun cotton, used for slow 


410 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


matches, lit one end of it, and went to his post without a 
word. 

A shudder pervaded the crew like an electric shock, but 
none dared to object; all appeared to approve of the mea- 
sure in silence. 

“Now, shipmates,” continued Laurent, “one more word. 
Our frigate is freighted with two millions of dollars in 
specie and gold, that is to say, including the tenth due the 
king of France and the outfit money advanced, $8^,740 
Spanish money, per man ; and as the regal tithes and ship 
brokerage will be more than reimbursed by the shares of 
those killed in action, each one of the survivors may con- 
sider himself worth more than $100,000 Spanish money. 
To surrender under such prospects of future happiness Avill 
not only be cowardice but madness. Let us keep our money. 
Long live king Louis of France — ^but longer live the Bucca- 
neers of San Domingo.” 

“ And longest live Captain Laurent ! ” was the spontane- 
ous and enthusiastic response of the crew, as they went to 
their quarters. 

“ Comrade,” said Malcolm, to Laurent, when they were 
left alone on the quarter deck, “between us, there is no 
necessity for dissimulation or stimulation ; let us speak 
frankly. Do you really believe what you have told the 
crew ? As for me, I will not conceal the fact that our situa- 
tion is desperate.” 

“ It is undeniable,” replied Laurent, “ that our sixteen guns 
and eighty men, minus one killed at Granada, are very un- 
equally matched with the armament of the Spanish admiral; 
but knowing my men as I do, I do not despair. Every man 
on my deck with his rifle can strike an orange every shot at 
two hundred paces. Sharpshooters like these can well sup- 
ply the places of cannon at short range. Candidly I cannot 
calculate upon the result of this fight with absolute cer- 
tainty, but between you and me there is one plank of safety 
for us.” 


THE GALLEONS. 


411 


“ What is that?” was the eager inquiry of Malcolm. 

“Do you see,” continued Laurent, pointing with his trum- 
pet, “ that little speck of dirty gray to the south, almost in- 
visible, lifting like a balloon ? ” 

“Yes,” said Malcolm, “ since you have shown it to me, I 
see it.” 

“Well, that cloud. Sir Ismail,” continued Laurent, “tri- 
fling as it may appear to you, is the avant courier of a hurri- 
cane, or tornado, as they are called in these seas. Now the 
question for us is, can we keep the enemy at bay until that 
hurricane comes up, as it will do in the course of three hours ? 
Now not another word; remain near me, but in silence.” 

Laurent, who, after the appearance of the galleons, had 
clothed himself in his most magnificent court costume, now 
mounted his taffrail, which, in ships of that day and class, 
were balustraded promenades, where he could see and be 
seen from every post of his spar deck. 

It would require the pencil of a master to give a correct 
idea of that unique combination of magnificence, pride and 
beauty which the Buccaneer chief presented. His crew 
looked on him with pride and pleasure. Those rough un- 
tamed beings who visited foppery and personal decorations 
in others with so much sarcasm, loved to see their chief in his 
grand toilet, because they knew that beneath all that gold 
embroidery, silk velvet and rich lace, there beat a heart that 
fear never entered. 

The Spanish galleon and the Buccaneer frigate, close 
hauled in the wind, standing on the same tack in concentric 
lines to a certain point of collision, were now rapidly ap- 
proaching each other. Scarcely the distance of a cannon shot 
separated them, when Malcolm beheld Nativa approaching 
him. 

“You here on deck, Nativa ? ” said he. “ Your place is be- 
low, where you can assist the wounded under cover from the 
enemy’s fire. I entreat you, go below instantly; the can- 
nonade will soon open.” 


412 


THE BVVGANEERS. 


“ My place is near you, Ismail,” said she, in a tone which, 
though mild and gentle, bespoke determination. “Leave 
you in a moment of danger ? never — ^never ! ” 

“ But, Nativa,” said Malcolm, mildly remonstrating against 
her ill-timed and misplaced enthusiasm, “your j^resence 
here on the quarter deck in time of action can be of no 
earthly advantage. On the contrary it will even distract 
me in the discharge of my duties, for which I require all the 
faculties of my intellect, all the strength of .my body. I 
entreat you, go below.” 

“Sir Ismail Malcolm,” said ISTativa, without moving from 
the spot where she stood, “ have you forgotten that a sailor’s 
superstition has made me an omen of good luck ? So far 
that superstition has become faith. If it is true, can I not 
protect you from Spanish bullets ? but if that superstition is 
a delusion, can we not die together ? I assure you that I 
shall be happy to die with you.” 

“Comrade,” exclaimed Laurent at this moment, to stop 
the conversation between Malcolm and Nativa, “ascertain 
before we open fire, if the fore, main and mizzentops have 
their complement of men, ammunition, and more t^.articu- 
larly, hand grenades, and if our sharpshooters are properly 
posted in the topgallants to pick off the Spanish officers. 
Hurry.” 

Malcolm hurried away, and Laurent, addressing himself to 
Nativa in that stern, imperious tone which he knew Vv^hen 
and where to use as occasion required, and which was im- 
possible to resist, said, “ Nativa, go below. I order it.” 

The order admitted of no argument. Nativa sighed and 
obeyed. 

“ All hands stand by for action ! ” shouted Laurent through 
his trumpet. 


THE BATTLE AT SEA. 


413 


CHAPTEK XLY. 

THE BATTLE AT SEA. 

To see two ships of war bearing for each other to open 
battle is an imposing and thrilling sight. The orders of the 
executive officers is all that breaks the solemn silence of that 
awful hour — awful even to the bravest of the brave — their 
hearts beat with violence, they breathe with compressed 
lips through dilated nostrils. 

Each one, though cradled in danger, baptized by the 
blood, and scathed by the fire of battle, cast one retrospec- 
tive glance of lingering regret over his past life ; he rigidly 
interrogated his antecedents to solve the problem — should 
this hour be his last — was it one that bore on its fleeting 
breath the doom of a lost soul, or the living hope of resig- 
nation and trust in mercy ? 

Jalman, crouching at the feet of his master, on the eve of 
his maiden battle, felt in all its intensity the agitation which 
usually precedes the opening of fire, on such occasions. 

“ By my faith, master,” said he, in a low tone, “I can’t 
conceive why Captain Laurent should tack for a fight instead 
of scudding away from one. Since I have felt myself owner 
of one hundred thousand Spanish dollars I have become an 
arrant coward. One hundred thousand dollars — for Jalman 
Yaughn; that is enough to turn any man’s head like me. 
How much does that come to in English money, master? — 
two or three thousand guineas, I’ll bet. To think that I am 
rich enough to buy cape Henry, to eat fresh beef, old ham, 
drink old peach brandy every day, and to have a horse and 
darkey of my own ! When I have just got all that I must 
be killed ! Master, do tell the captain that to be vain-glori- 


414 


THE B U CCANEEB8. 


ous is a sin in the face of Almighty God — do persuade him 
to boom off.” 

“ What should we gain, Jalman,” said Malcolm, in a severe 
tone, “ by booming off, when tne admiral can overhaul us at 
any moment by crowding on sail ? Come, be a man ; remem- 
ber that we, you and I, represent old Virginia on this deck, 
and that we must not dishonor our manhood or our coimtry 
by cowardice or inglorious flight.” 

“ Then it is the Spaniards that force us to flght sure,” re-’ 
plied Jalman. 

“ Certainly they do, Jalman,” said his master. 

“ Then, faith, let them look out ! ” exclaimed Jalman, 
flourishing his cutlass. “ Ah, scoundrels^ then you want to 
steal my money, do you ? You are not content with rob- 
bing and murdering the Indians, but you must put your 
paws upon a Christian gentleman’s money ! IST ow I am in a 
hurry for battle — I feel the ferocity of a famished wolf.” 

The stentorian trumpet of Laurent cut short further col- 
loquy between Malcolm and his pugnacious servant. 

“ Haul down flying jib, clew and trail up foresail ! ” rang 
out the clarion voice of the trumpet from the quarter deck. 

The Spanish admiral, seeing that his Buccaneer antagonist 
made battle only under working canvas, followed his ex- 
ample by reducing sail —wondering at the foolhardiness of 
an enemy whose strength he supposed consisted in the light- 
ness of his heels — presenting his larboard broadside of thirty 
pieces of the heaviest class of ordnance then known in 
the world to the Buccaneer starboard of eight eighteen- 
pounders. 

When within three hundred yards the admiral hailed the 
Buccaneer to show his colors. ' 

The Buccaneer chief heard the summons with a haughty 
and disdainful smile. Springing upon the quarter deck rail- 
ing, glittering with gold and jewelry, in full view of every 
man on the galleon’s deck, “ I am Captain Laurent, for 
whose head your government has ofiered a reward of one 


THE BATTLE AT SEA, 


415 


million of dollars,” said he, in a voice which rang clear and 
distinct above the roar of the wind and the surge of the 
rolling waves. 

And then, without changing his position or place, he 
shouted to his crew, “ Open fire, above and below.” 

Jets of smoke and flame issued from the starboard ports 
as their eight starboard guns flashed and banged in unison 
with the cracking of rifles from the tops and waist. 

The reply of the Don was not long in coming. It came 
like the irruption of a new volcano. His broadside of those 
thirty pieces of enormous calibre — charged with those iron 
globes moulded by Philip II. to batter down the cliffs of 
old England in the preceding century — vomited forth their 
iron hail like those volcanic boulders of primitive rock hurled 
by subterranean power from the centre of the earth. Had 
they struck the hull of the frigate it would have been shat- 
tered , but the axis of the galleon’s fire passed through the 
upper rigging of the Buccaneer. A shower of splinters and 
broken spars fell on his deck. 

“ Cease firing with the batteries shouted Laurent ■ 
“nothing but rifles; grenades, topmen — throw your gren- 
ades, topmen, on the admiral’s deck. Take your time and 
take your aim — let every shot tell.” 

The order given by Laurent to cease firing by battery 
was a masterly stroke inspired by the genius of battle. 
The Buccaneer chief, with that rapid conception, that uner- 
ring instinct with which he was endowed in common with 
that favored few in the annals of men, saw that the effect 
of his eighteen-pounders was nothing to the enormous '‘gal- 
leonades” of the Spanish admiral — which have been repro- 
duced in our own times on more scientific principles under 
the name of “ columbiads ” — that damage done to the Span- 
iard’s hull and rigging did not compensate for the use of the 
men detailed to work the Buccaneer batteries — that these 
same men distributed in the tops and waist could do more 
service as sharpshooters than as cannoneers. 


416 


THE B UCGANEERS. 


For a half-hour this singular battle between a Spanish 
galleon armed with huge artillery and projecting round shot 
by tons, huge escopette muskets firing handfuls of ounce 
bullets as' fowling-pieces do bird-shot, and a Buccaneer clip- 
per whose crew replied with the fatal and deadly fire of 
rifles, raged with terrible carnage on both sides. 

The Buccaneers, cheered on by Laurent, seemed to mul- 
tiply. 

The Spaniards having such superiority in men and ma- 
terial — present and on the way — over their formidable ad- 
versary, who, next to Montbars, was the terrible scourge of 
the American archipelago, did not for a moment doubt of 
success, at least when the vice-admiral came up, if not 
before. 

The admiral, as it was after proved in the court-martial, sat 
m his gorgeous uniform in his after cabin below the water 
line, as safe from the Buccaneer’s fire as though he were on 
the pryamids of Egypt, replied with contemptuous indiffer- 
ence to the reports of the carnage on his spar deck, and 
furiously dismissed from his presence an officer who too 
zealously urged him to run alongside of the enemy and 
carry his deck by boarding. 

We must remind ourselves of the veteranized coolness 
and infallible battle tact of the Buccaneers to account for 
the carnage they inflicted on the Spaniards in that half-hour. 

Two hundred of the admiral’s crew were either killed or 
wounded. The gunners of the spar deck batteries, exposed 
to the fatal fire of the Buccaneer topmen, were piled in 
heaps around their pieces ; and whenever any of those who 
served the berth deck batteries showed themselves at the 
open ports a sharpshooter’s bullet punished his temerity. 

It was a strange and singular sight, to see — ^this leviathan 
of the Spanish navy harassed by an adversary of such compar- 
atively small dimensions, whose hull he could have swamped 
and ran under foot simply by bearing down on him — an in- 
cident found only in Buccaneer annals. 


THE BATTLE AT SEA. 


417 


Malcolm, with his rifle in his hand, though aiding as 
second officer of the deck, drew a sharpshooter’s bead 
whenever an opportunity presented itself. 

Jalman, whose nervous agitation disappeared with the first 
broadside fired by the galleon, crouching behind the quarter 
deck railing, used his Buccaneer rifle with more skill and 
coolness than he was supposed capable of under fire. The 
baptism of fire had veteranized him in a few seconds. “ Oh, 
ye Spanish blackguards — it . was my money ye were after 
taking, were ye ? ” he would say, reloading his rifle and aim- 
ing — “ take that, for murdering the poor Indians,” — and a 
Spaniard would fall as these words were uttered. 

The blood-stained deck of the Buccaneer frigate proved 
too plainly that the momentary triumph of Laurent — or 
more properly speaking his resistance — was costing him 
dearly. Twenty Buccaneers were killed principally by the 
Spanish topmen, armed with huge blunderbuss muskets, 
each firing a dozen bullets at a time, who poured their hail 
in one continuous shower on the deck of the frigate. 

“ Comrade,” said Malcolm to Laurent, “ would it not be 
better to lay alongside of the admiral and board him? 
Who knows but that one desperate coup de main likp that 
would not save us ? ” 

“ I admire your gallant enthusiasm and ardor, comrade,” 
said Laurent, “ but my responsibilities as commander pre- 
vent me from sharing them. What do you think fifty or 
sixty could do against a thousand ? One hound need not 
fear a thousand foxes — but a thousand foxes would fight if 
they could not run.”^ 

“ Then we are lost,” said Malcolm, in a whisper. 

“ Why — yes — if the hurricane does not come in time,” 
said Laurent, with a smile. 

“According to your calculations that would be in the 
course of three hours,” replied Malcolm. 

“ Yes, but since then there is a marked change in the ap- 
pearance of things to the windward — let us hold on another 
hour and we are saved.” 


418 


THE BVGGANEEBS. 


“ An hour, Laurent ? Then the case is hopeless,” said 
Malcolm, with the resignation of despair. ‘‘ At the first full 
broadside we receive in our hull we will go down. Surely 
their awkward gunners will get the range of us before that 
time.” 

“We will be cannonaded and fusiladed but not broad - 
sided,” said Laurent. “ Ever since they spent their first and 
only broadside in the air their batteries have never been 
able to fire a volley — they fire by piece only, and that badly. 
And as to going down, you forget that Requin is in the 
magazine with a lighted match, and we are more likely to 
go up than down''* 

“Then,” said Malcolm, vehemently, “I insist on boarding, 
more particularly as the admiral has refused it ever since 
the action began.” 

“ That is no indication of strategy in the admiral, com- 
rade,” said Laurent. “ He knows that I am here. It is self- 
evident that if you or I had command of that galleon, 
this frigate would have a very short lease of life. Tell me 
not of those Spanish grandees — they obtain important com- 
mands by seniority or court influence. With their rank 
they learn nothing but the dull formulas of obsolete tactics 
— nothing from the spirit of the times, the progress of 
the age, or instinct of war. Had one of our Buccaneers 
been on that admiral’s quarter deck we should long ago have 
gone up or down.” 

Laurent, standing upon the arch of the tiller post — a posi- 
tion which rendered him fearfully visible, and though the 
mitrialle of lead and iron whizzed and screamed around 
him — replied to Malcolm in a tone as serenely as that of a 
saloon conversation; so perfefct a master was he of his 
nerves that no appearance of excitement was perceptible 
either in tone or manner. 

“ Ah,” said he, quickly, “ see what the Don is doing now — ■ 
he is tacking to give us a broadside en poop. The tact is 
good, but not a Spanish custom. Comrade ” 


THE BATTLE AT SEA. 


419 


The remainder of the sentence was not uttered — Laurent 
was hurled down from his position on the deck; the fabulous 
charm which had heretofore rendered him invulnerable, now 
deserted him. 

It was a critical moment. Malcolm seized it. 

“ Shipmates,” said he to the crew, springing to fill the 
fated post just vacated by Laurent, one man less is not a 
defeat. All is well — no cause for despair. Stand by and 
attend to orders — do not let them rake us fore and aft. 
Shake out your sails — let the ship come round with the wind 
— hard a lee. Now we baffle the Don by following his ex- 
ample.” 

One moment a sensation of despair, or rather stupor per- 
vaded the Buccaneers upon the fall of Laurent. But ani- 
mated by the cheering words of Malcolm, they quickly re- 
covered from the blow, happy to find at this critical moment 
a chief to fill the fated post. With a cheer of approval 
they rushed to the execution of the orders given. The 
furled sails were shook out — the frigate swung round, and 
changed front to meet the tack of the Spanish admiral. 

“ The stupid asses,” muttered Malcolm, casting a scornful 
glance upon the tJirdy evolution of the unwieldly galleon ; 
“ they are opening the hand they had closed on us — what 
time they lose.” 

Many Buccaneers, seeing their chief fall, ran to his assist- 
ance. As they were raising him from the deck he opened 
his eyes and gently repulsed their kind offices. 

“ Back, shipmates, to your places,” said he. “ It is nothing 
now but a scratch — a splinter from a spar struck me on the 
head and stunned me. Can bullets kill me ? Go to your 
posts.” 

Wiping away with his handkerchief the blood oozing 
from a wound in his head and pouring over his eyes so as to 
blind him, he arose and advanced to his former post of dan- 
ger and command. 

“ Ah,” said he, seeing Malcolm installed into his place. 


420 


THE BUCCAHEER8. 


have lost no time, it seems, in stepping into my shoes,’^ 
A cold, freezing and haughty expression accompanied these 
words. 

Malcolm as haughtily met the sneer. “ Comrade,’^ said 
he, vacating the post of his chief, “ that sneer is not only 
unjust, but it is weakness. I have exalted you a little too 
high. You are an extraordinary man, I admit, but only — 
but — ^but a man.” 

At this retort Laurent turned scarlet and, after eyeing 
Malcolm with a keen, searching glance, said, “ Ah, I under- 
stand you now — Nativa loves you. I have not overrated 
you — ^you are better than I, yes, a thousand times better — 
for I never could have had the sublime virtue to forgive you 
for saving the frigate.” 

During the hour which followed this singular episode the 
battle assumed its most terrible form — half of the Bucca- 
neer crew were killed or wounded ; the survivors on deck 
feeling theii’ fate sealed, became reckless of life, no longer 
seeking to avail themselves of the cover of the Avaist or of 
the barges which were hauled on deck and converted into 
temporary barricades, they yelled and screamed Avith rage 
like wild beasts, and demanded to be run alongside of the 
galleon, and to die in boarding, on the admiral’s quarter 
deck. 

But Laurent, firm and impassible as granite, continued to 
scan the horizon to the south. The hurricane, his last hope, 
his only plank, so far had failed him. 


THE GOOD ANGEL. 


421 


CHAPTER XLYI. 

THE GOOD ANGEL. 

Ie the situation of the Buccaneers was in a manner 
desperate, the Spanish admiral was paying dear for his vic- 
tory. Five hundred men, one half of his crew, were hors 
de combat already — a fact which would have been scouted as 
a mendacious Buccaneer canard had it not been proven be- 
fore the court martial which tried the admiral. The dead 
were piled in heaps around the batteries and the blood ran 
in streams from the scuppers. 

The Spanish artillerymen, after such a waste of time, 
powder and iron, and finding it a question of life or death, 
did at length get the range of the Buccaneer. The huge 
round shot from the galleon’s batteries began to tell with a 
terrible effect upon the hull of the frigate. 

Then the final issue was no longer doubtful — it was only a 
question of time. 

“Comrade,” said Laurent, “I have fought my last battle’ 
— my hour has come. Your hand; adieu.” 

“Where are you going, Laurent,” said Malcolm, as Lau- 
rent started to leave him. 

“ To give Eequin the order he is waiting for,” said Lau- 
rent. 

“ A commander should remain at his post until death re- 
heves him,” said Malcolm. “ Eequin will obey me as well 
as you. Eemain at your post. Farewell.” As Malcolm 
turned to go Laurent seized his arm. 

“ I understand you,” said Laurent, with pale comi)ressed 
lips and flashing eyes. “ You wish to see Nativa and die in 
her arms. I will not permit it.” 

‘Who will prevent it?” said Malcolm, haughtily. 


422 


THE BUCCAHEEBS. 


I — Laurent — ^the commander of this ship while she floats. 
I — do you hear ?” was the imperious reply of the Buccaneer 
chief. 

''The threat of a jealous lover,” retorted Malcolm, with a 
sneer. 

"An order from a superior officer,” hissed Laurent, 
through his teeth. 

The two companions in arms and rivals in love measured 
each other with a mutual scowl of defiance. Bach recoiled 
a step to give themselves elbow room. Each understood the 
other. Both were armed with boarding cutlasses. 

Some sad reflections would have been awakened in the 
mind of a philosopher, or even ordinary person, to see these 
two men, under the deadly fire of musketry and artil- 
lery, standing upon a volcano which onl}^ awaited a spark — 
that spark trembhng upon the fall — to belch forth its fiery 
torrent and annihilate in a twinkling the fated ship and crew. 
Under the excitement of passion and jealousy, like madden- 
ed fiends, each was eager to snatch from the other the few 
moments of life which remained. 

Such of the Buccaneers as were still on their feet were 
too much occupied with the enemy in front to observe the 
quarter-deck embrogho. 

The rivals, like two gladiators of the arena, weighed and 
measured each other with their eyes in silence for a few sec- 
onds. This pause before battle proved how much the com- 
batants estimated each other’s skill and address. 

Suddenly and simultaneously, as though the same thought 
flashed through the brain of both, they sprang to the charge 
with savage ferocity. Sparks flew in showers when the 
blades of their cutlasses met. 

Not a word was spoken. 

Whatever the fury of the combatants, both possessed too 
much cool courage to suffer their blows to be guided by 
chance — both, so to speak, had disciplined their rage thus. 
The first passage of arms produced no results; every cut 
met a guard, every tlmust a parry. 


THE GOOD ANGEE 


423 


Laurent put in requisition all that tiger-like agility for 
which he was so remarkable, to harrass and weaken Mal- 
colm; but the latter, with his thorough art of fencing, cov- 
ered himself with a glittering steel circle and was invulner- 
able. 

One might have said that two Paladins of Charlemagne 
were fighting one of those famous duels of chivalry for life 
and death. The collision of the first charge scarcely lasted 
half a minute. Finding, in their hand to hand struggle, the 
battle-ground had by degrees become too contracted for 
their long cutlasses, they by tacit and common consent, took 
distance again and renewed the struggle with redoubled fury. 
Malcolm, though embarrassed at first by the many feints of 
his adversary, soon comprehended his Parthean system, and 
stood entirely on the defensive until an opportune moment 
presented for the offensive. That moment soon came. A 
straight-out thrust, like a flash, between two uncovering 
feints of Laurent, struck that Buccaneer chief in the breast — 
a rib prevented the point from entering his heart. 

“ You are wounded ” said Malcolm, falling back. 

“ What matters that, so I kill you ; and I will kill you,’* 
was the defiant reply hurled back by Laurent. 

Stung by this conceited taunt and excited by the hot 
blood of battle, Malcolm resolved to fling mercy to the 
winds ; but ere he had time to take position he fell stagger- 
ing against the quarter railing. A Spanish bullet had struck 
him in the hip. 

The first thought of Laurent — and it flashed ferociously 
in his eye — was to avail himself of the advantage which 
chance presented, but it passed as it flashed. Throwing 
down his cutlass he caught his adversary in his arms 
and prevented him from falling to the deck. “ Comrade 
said he you are the first man who has ever made me ashamed 
of myself. The only means I have to cover my defeat is to 
order you to go and see Nativa. You are right ; a comman- 
der should never leave his quarter deck alive. Your adieus 


424 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


taken — one moment is sufficient to wliisper them in the ear 
of a woman — then order Kequin to execute his death war- 
rant — to fire the powder train. Adieu ! ” 

As Laurent uttered these words Nativa appeared on deck. 
Her eyes first sought Malcolm ; she ran to him. 

“ He lives yet, Holy Yu-gin ! ” exclaimed she, with such an 
expression of passionate fervor that it seemed to circle her 
face with an aureole of inspiration.” “ My God,” continued 
she, ‘‘you are pale — you are wounded.” 

“ Yes, Nativa,” said Malcolm ; “ but we shall all soon be in 
one common grave.” 

“Why speak thus — is our situation indeed so desper- 
ate ?” 

With these words Nativa cast her eyes over the deck and,* 
seeing the dead lying about in horrible confusion and wel- 
tering in pools of blood, shuddered. “ Laurent,” said she, 
‘• how does it happen that you, so experienced a commander 
as they say you are, cannot save us ? Why do you not fly 
from the enemy ? ” 

Laurent smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “My poor 
Hativa,” said he, “ your Holy Virgin herself should come and 
deliver her children from the hands of the Philistines — and 
why, in the devil’s name, don’t the good woman come? ” 

“Oh, what frightful blasphemy, Laurent,” said Nativa. 
“ But hold — now I remember one day to have seen an eagle 
swooping down upon a dove ; I shrieked in agony and pity 
for the dove. Gourd Head was with me — at my cries he 
raised his rifle and fired, the eagle’s wing was broken, the 
dove was saved.” 

“Well, what conclusions do you deduct therefrom?” said 
Laurent. 

“Why, that if the dove, already I may say, in the talons 
of the eaglo could escape, why should we despair, when the 
Spaniards have not yet got their hands on us,” replied 
Nativa with the emphasis of an advocate. 

“The cases are not analogous, Nativa,” said Laurent. 


THE GOOD ANGEL. 


425 


“ One shot from Gourd Head’s rifle could save a dove ; but 
one charge from one of our eighteen-pounders, however 
well trained it might be, could not change our position.” 

“ I do not agree with you, Laurent,” said the fair advo- 
cate of the dove ; “ if an eighteen-pound shot could shatter 
the mainmast of the galleon it would be cri^^pled like an 
eagle with a broken wing, and could not persue us — we 
would escape like the dove.” 

It was self-evident from the fact of Laurent’s exchang- 
ing these desultory remarks with Nativa at this time that 
even he regarded his command as hopelessly lost. 

This group of three persons, chatting upon what was evi- 
dently an irrelavant subject amid the terrific roar of ship 
artillery, the whirring, whistling showers of grape and round 
shot, was certainly the most singular episode of this memor- 
able battle on the high seas, which took place in the Carrib- 
bean sea on the 5th of November, 1689. 

Suddenly Laurent appeared to be electrified with a bright 
idea. “ Nativa,” he exclaimed, “ the Holy Yirgin must have 
touched 5"our lips with a live coal of fire. Why has not that 
idea struck me before ? I cannot tell. Comrade,” said he 
to Malcolm, “ take my place on the quarter-deck, and let 
Bequin alone for a moment.” 

Laurent, running to the midship waist where the greater 
part of his surviving crew were in action, detailed five of 
them to load one of the guns. 

Malcolm and Nativa watched his movements with bated 
breath, praying God that he would escape the Spanish bul- 
lets in this their forlorn hope. 

Laurent, bending down, cast his eye along the axis of the 
bore from the breech to the muzzle, trained the gun with 
the elevating screw as the frigate rose and sank with the 
waves. Anon the canon flashed, blazed and roared. Lau- 
rent had played his last card. 

The reputation of Laurent as a marksman at artillery 
2 ')ractice was so universal that Malcolm fancied he saw the 


426 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


mainmast of tlie galleon tremble from deck to royals and 
slightly bend from the perpendicular. 

“ KelOad/’ said Laurent to the men ; and then turning to 
Malcolm and Nativa, said, “ The eagle’s wing is chpped ; 
this time it will fall.” 

It was no empty gasconade Laurent uttered. A second 
more, a fearful crashing and a storm of yells and execrations 
on the admiral’s deck followed the second report of the 
Buccaneer’s gun. . The mainmast of the galleon swayed to 
and fro athwart ship, and then, settling away to the leeward, 
the windward shrouds and stays snapped, and then, like the 
gigantic monarch of the forest at the last cut of the wood- 
man’s axe, it fell with a crash and splash partly in the sea 
and partly acrpss the deck of the galleon. 

The trunk of the mainmast — shivered, and splintered by 
two successive eighteen pound shots near the same spot 
about five feet above the deck — ^no longer able to bear the 
enormous mass of canvas and spars, fell hke an avalanche 
loosened by a thaw from the edge of some CAlzj height. 

The crash of the falling mass was prolonged by the yells 
of the terrified Spaniards, while the vault of heaven reechoed 
with the cheers of the exulting Buccaneers, who had nothing 
more to fear from their powerful enemy. 

“Ah, the imbecile,” said Laurent, “who did not dare to 
board us. No pity for you. The load of infamy you must 
bear is punishment enough. Death on your quarters would 
be a thousand mercies compared to the doom that awaits 
you at the Escurial.” 

Then the frigate luffed up under the stern of the galleon 
and raked him fore and aft with a furious fire. 

The admiral, after clearing away the wrecli of the main- 
mast, boomed off before a strong fair wind with all the sail 
he could carry. 

“ Ah,” said Laurent, folio-wing with his eye the hull of his 
retreating adversary, “ if I only had fifty or sixty men more, 
in a half-hour the admiral’s flag would trail ingloriously at 
his bowsprit.” 


THE GOOD AH GEL. 427 

The number of Buccaneers now able to do duty was only 
sixteen men. 

Shipmates,” said I^aurent to them, after they had cleared 
the deck of the bloody records of the battle, ‘‘ we have now' 
to play a bold game of blulf. The galleon of the vice- 
admiral is heaving in sight. To sustain another action 
against another armament of one thousand men and sixty 
guns is out of the question. We must look him in the face 
with a game eye and a lighted match, and look him out 
of countenance. This and this only can save us. Let us 
lay to and let the vice-admiral overhaul us, which he can do 
whether we will or not. Present him a bold battle front, 
and he mU not dare to take up the battle gage.” 

The words of the Buccaneer chief were fulfilled to the 
very letter. The audacious defiance obtained all the success 
he wished. The vice-admiral, before coming within gunshot, 
bore off and followed the admiral. 

“Nativa,” said Laurent, with an impulse he could not 
control, ‘‘ 3^ou are the guardian angel — the beautiful queen 
of Buccaneers. Child of heavenly grace and mortal beauty, 
3'ou have not only saved my ship, but my soul. The mirac- 
ulous intervention of an everruling Providence on this 
occasion has been so signal that I, scoffer and blasphemer 
as I have been, can no longer doubt the existence of an aU 
merciful God.” 

Laurent, feeling himself humbled by an acknowdedge- 
ment which had all the force of truth and sincerity, quickly 
checked himself and gazed upon Nativa with eyes of pas- 
sionate license. ‘‘No, Nativa,” muttered he, “I shall not 
always he soft—jo\x shall be my mistress.” 

“ Comrade,” continued he after some moment’s silence, to 
Malcolm, “ our trials are not yet over. We have now to 
contend with the hurricane — it is right upon us — and our 
ship, so damaged by round shot, leaks like a riddle.” 

A terrific peal of thunder followed these words. The 
wind — the breath from the nostrils of the hurricane — burst 


4C8 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


upon them in all its unchained fury, threw the frigate on 
her beam ends and dipped her mainyards in the sea. Some 
seconds before she righted Laurent, though weakened by 
loss of blood from two wounds, took iij) his trumpet and 
issued his orders to work the ship, with his usual prompt- 
ness and dispatch. 

Such was the battle between the Spanish galleon “ Filippo 
Segundo,” commanded by admiral Yasco Nunez and the 
Buccaneer frigate “ La Serpente,” commanded by captain 
Laurent, the result of which produced such a profound sen- 
sation in Europe when its details came to be known. 

Though Spain had frequently sustained greater disasters 
and sadder reverses, this affair, comparatively insignificant 
in itself, visited upon that haughty power a more bitter 
humiliation than the defeat and dispersion of the armada 
just one century previous. 

The decadence of Spain became so patent and manifest 
that diplomatic courtesy and Castilian grandiloquence could 
no longer conceal it. SjDain — that Spain who had sent one 
of her kings forth to be known as Charles Y., emperor of 
Germany, to wear the diadem of the Caesars — Spain, that 
sent the armadas of Philip II. to blot England and Holland 
from the map of Europe — now sought aid from a grandson 
of 'William the Silent, to crush the Buccaneers of Tortuga. 

The admiral Yasco Nunez was tried for treason and cow- 
ardice, comdemned and beheaded ; the vice-admiral was 
cashiered and exiled. 

Louis XIY., not knowing the nationality of Laurent, sent 
him the order of Saint Louis and an autograph letter of 
naturalization. Laurent wore the order and, after laughing 
heartily over his “ naturalization papers,” wrote a letter to 
his gracious majesty of France. King Louis, so soon as he 
saw the signature, tore the letter in pieces, threw the frag- 
ments into the fire and piously made the sign of the cross. 


JETSAM AND FLOTSAM. 


429 


CHAPTEE XLYII. 

JETSAM AND FLOTSAM. 

The remainder of the day and the night which followed 
the battle between the galleon and the frigate was a sad and 
gloomy one for the Buccaneers. 

The fury of the hurricane increased at every moment. 

The berth deck of the frigate presented a horrible sight. 
The cries and shrieks of the wounded, tortured by the ter- 
ribly contused and lacerated wounds, complicated with frac- 
tured bones, called upon death to end their sufferings, ming- 
ling their discord with the roaring of the tempest and the 
creaking of strained and shivered timbers, formed a pande- 
moniac concert. 

The sixteen men who survived the battle unscathed were 
too few to form relief watches in ^vorking the shij) and 
keeping the pumps going. Tl)ey soon began to sink under 
the incessant fatigue of their double duties. Every second 
the sea pouring in through the leakage caused by the ene- 
my’s shot waterlogged the ship and slackened her speed. 

Laurent knew that without the intervention of some 
providential aid, as improbable as unexpected and beyond 
the range of probabilities, the ship must sooner or later 
swamp and go down. 

The next day at dawn an enormous mass of slate-colored 
clouds, fringed with a purple tint, appearing as hard and as 
solid as a chain of mountains, arose out of the sea to the 
east, between them and the light, and brought back the 
darkness of night again, with a change of wind. 

About ten o’clock in the morning the frigate, broaching 
to in the trough of the sea, began to roll heavily and dip 
her yards. This was followed by a shriek of despair from 


430 


THE BUGGANEERS. 


the wounded, and a yell of execrations from those on duty. 
They thought all was lost. 

In the midst of this terror and alarm the calm and po- 
tential voice of Laurent was heard above the roaring of the 
wind and waves. “ Courage and silence, fore and aft,” said 
that voice ; “ the helm is hard up — she begins to luff — the 
case is not quite desperate yet.” 

The frigate, after rolling in the trough of the sea, be- 
tween two perpendicular walls of water, finally recovered 
steerage and headway. 

Out of ten ships, overladen or waterlogged either from 
neglect or incompetency of ‘the helmsman, getting into the 
trough of the sea in a storm, not more than one ever escapes. 

Under these circumstances Laurent found it an impossi- 
bility to stand his course for Jamaica. He bore away two 
quarters for the Florida coast. 

This change of course, imperiously commanded by cir- 
cumstances, exposed the straining and laboring ship to a 
new danger of being swamped by waves tumbling in over 
her railing on deck, and as the crew could not depend upon 
a succession of miracles to ^ave them, they looked upon 
every turn of the hour glass as their last ; and thus they 
stood upon that blood-stained deck in the moody silence of 
grim despair. 

“Ismail,” said Hativa, who, clinging to the quarter net- 
tings, would not leave the deck for the shelter of her cabin, 
in spite of the seas Tvhich pitched bodily over the bows and 
swept the deck fore and aft like a cataract, “ this hour I feel 
is our last. Laurent is a good sailor, I admit, but he is 
powerless against the wrath of heaven. But why this face 
of woe, Ismail ? Ho you fear death ? ” 

“ My beloved sister,” said Malcolm, with all the tender- 
ness of a last adieu, “ God is witness to the truth of what I 
utter — so far from fearing death, it is a boon I desire. The 
only sting of death to me is the thought that I drag you 
down in my fall. But for me you would now be roaming 


JETSAM AND FLOTSAM. 


431 


free and happy in your native forest which you love so well. 
Your sympathy for me — a lonely wanderer on the earth — 
has destroyed you.” 

“ Speak not thus, Ismail,” said she, with a look and tone 
of gentle reproof. “ I assure you that you are mistaken. 
When you came to my father’s house the happiness of 
thoughtless childhood had passed for me. I was what you 
call ennuiecL I was sad, listless. I knew not why. I often 
wept without sorrow, and laughed with tears. Isolation 
had all its bitterness. The presence of poor Gourd Head, 
kind as he was to me, was intolerable. It seemed that be- 
yond mine, there was another world I knew not, where hap- 
piness awaited me. Reproach not yourself with my death. 
’Tis true you have been the cause of much suffering to me, 
but that is not your fault. If you only knew ” 

Hativa here hesitated, blushed, and was silent. 

“Nativa — poor girl,” said the sorrowing Malcolm, “why 
use a generous, soothing falsehood, which only shows the 
delicacy and depth of your sympathy, to add to the grief I 
must feel at the thought that death is about to separate us 
forever.” 

“I utter a falsehood?” said Nativa, quickly. “ You for- 
get, Sir Ismail, that none has ever taught me, by precept or 
example, to lie. To lie requires a teacher — it cannot be learnt 
otherwise. The heart is truth until false teachers enter 
therein. I know not how to disguise my thoughts by words. 
They laugh at my originality. I repeat, my Ismail, my death 
lies not at your door. You have made me suffer much, 
but I will say again that is not your fault. If you only 
knew-^ ” 

As Nativa repeated in a voice ’almost unintelligible — so 
much did she tremble — words which caused her to blush 
and hesitate a second time, Malcolm felt his heart swell with 

joy he knew not why. At that moment he forgot the 

acute pangs his wound caused him and the awful position in 
which he was placed. 


432 


THE BUCGANEtllE 


“ What mean you by that half uttered sentence, '■if you 
only knew^ ’ [N'ativa ?” said he, in a whisper. 

Nativa still hesitated. “Ismail,” said she, at length, “do 
not ask me. It troubles — it pains me, I cannot answer.” 

“ Why should it pain you, N'ativa?” said Malcolm. 

“ My God, how can I know ? ” said she. “ Only I know 
not. It seems to me that should I endeavor to explain I 
should make myself the more ridiculous. I must keep silent 
— that is all.” 

“ To utter one portion ot a sentence,” said Malcolm, “ and 
withhold the remainder is to dissemble — to lie. I am not 
worthy of your confidence. You no longer love me as your 
brother.’ 

“ Love you not. Sir Ismail Malcolm! ” said Nativa, indig- 
nantly “ How wicked in you to say so I My God, if you 
exact it I will say it — in fact you are too generous, too good, 
to make me blush for my folly. I have lately discovered 
that my life, up to the time I saw you, was like a deep, 
sweet sleep; but from that hour I felt my heart quicken 
with life. Then the world — my world — seemed to change ; 
flowers sent forth more delicious perfumes than I had ever 
known, the birds seemed to warble sweeter music. Then I 
felt the living, breathing happiness of life. You smile. Sir 
Ismail ?” added she, without daring to raise her eyes to meet 
his. “You are laughing at me, no doubt.” 

“ Go on, Hativa; go on,” said Malcolm, a prey to emo- 
tions indefinable. 

“Ismail,” replied Hativa, first hesitating and then yielding 
to an influence superior to her will, “ you cannot reproach 
yourself with my death, sipce I knew not life till I saw you. 
I have said, you have made me suffer much. Is it not so ? 
Why and wherefore you know no more than I. Probably 
because I feared to lose you — because my mind is weak ; 
but know this, that you are not the guilty cause of my 
misfortunes. It may appear foolish and ridiculous, but 
my past experiences are dear to me — they are fond reminis- 


JETSAM AND FLOTSAM. 433 

cences. It seems 19 me at this moment, to suffer is to be 
happy.” 

The ideas of Nativa, like all other original and simple be- 
ings, isolated in childhood and reared amid the sublime beau- 
ties of nature, were clothed in the language of poetry, which 
harmonized so well with her irresistibly seraphic beauty. 
The prayer of a Madonna, appealing to all the generous 
sentiments of Malcolm’s heart, not to wound the chaste 
ignorance of Kativa by too much light, melted him to tears. 

Malcolm was pondering in his bewilderment what to say, 
when two huge cross-sea billows, rolling towards each other, 
struck the hull of the frigate, the intervening obstacle. The 
ship, like some living thing, quivered in agony from keel to 
maintop. . Then those two billows, in their recoil, leaped to 
meet each other over the midship waists and poured a 
deluge like a cataract to sweep the deck fore and aft. All 
aboard thought that moment was their last. 

“Nativa, I love you,” said Malcolm, who, supposing that 
he was uttering his last words on earth, strained her convul- 
sively to his heart and pressed his burning lips to her own, 
in one long passionate kiss. 

At that burning touch, so new to Nativa, she closed her 
eyes, trembled convulsively ; a deathly pallor blanched her 
face ; her head, like that of a lily whose stem is broken by 
the storm, bent low ; she became unconscious. At the same 
time the frigate righted, the avalanche of water, which swept 
the deck and careened the hull, ran off through the breaches 
of the waist, ports and scuppers. 

The voice of Laurent, calm and commanding in the storm 
of battle or tempest, restored courage if not hope to his 
crew. “ Shipmates,” said he to them, “ you are too brave 
to fear death ; but I can readily conceive how painful uncer- 
tainty and anxiety must be to you. Be worthy of your- 
selves. Let us throw all of our chances in one cast of the die ; 
in five minutes, let us be either saved or lost.” 

Laurent, then striding up the mizzen shrouds some rounds, 


434 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


with his eyes fixed like an eagle’s in the focus of the hurri- 
cane, scanned the horizon to the east. 

Quickly his features beamed with that glow of audacity, 
so like the inspiration of hope ; a smile of triumph passed 
over his lips. Putting his trumpet to his mouth, its clear 
and ringing voice uttered, “Down fore, main and mizzen 
sails; clew up staysails and squaresails, slacken jib sheets — 
let her scud before the wind.” 

This perilous order was received with the silence and 
stupefaction of death. 

“ Well, shipmates,” said Laurent, with bitter irony, “have 
you all really turned Spaniards ? By the gods, from the 
way you gape and stare at me instead of obeying orders, 
any one would suppose you are either deaf or scared — Avhich 
is it ? ” 

The Buccaneers, ashamed to have doubted even for a mo- 
ment the infallibility of their chief, redeemed their momen- 
tary weakness by a more prompt execution of the order 
than could have been expected from a crew so reduced in 
numbers and worn out with fatigue. 

The frigate, staggering with the leeward ports under 
water, wore round under her jib, and scudded before the 
wind, seeming to outstrip the tempest on an even keel. 

In this there was imminent danger. The waterlogged 
hull could not be kept before the wind without broaching 
to in the trough of the sea. 

Laurent ordered a drag to be trained astern. This expe- 
dient succeeded to a wonder. The ship was for the time 
saved. 

These evolutions, performed quicker than they can be 
described, were no sooner over than Laurent approached 
Nativa and Malcolm. It was then that she became con- 
scious. 

“Where am I — what has happened?” said she, gazing 
Tvuldly about her. “Oh, I remember now, an enormous 
wave, the ship going down, the water washing me off the 


JETSAM AND FLOTSAM. 435 

deck — you held me — you did wrong. You know not how 
sweet death would have been to me.” 

Malcolm bowed his head and was silent. 

“Comrade,” said Laurent to him, “for the last ten 
minutes I have scarce been able to stand. I have lost too 
much blood and sleep. I must knock under for a while and 
turn the command over to you. Here are my instructions.” 

Laurent then explained what he wished done, and then, 
sinking down on the deck continued, “ I feel faint ; throw 
your cloak over me. I require nothing more. Let the men 
believe I am asleep.” 

Malcolm took advantage of the fainting fit of the Bucca- 
neer chief to persuade Nativa to go to her cabin. Her pre- 
sence, loved as she was, embarrassed him. He would be 
alone to collect his ideas. Hativa yielded to his entreaties 
with a docility and acquiescence which surprised him. 

“ I go to return,” said she, in a gentle tone, without rais- 
ing her eyes. “If the danger increases you will come and 
advise me of it. The thought of dying alone terrifies 
me. But, if at your side, well. I depend on you. Good- 
bye, again. I am overcome for want of sleep, and worn 
down with fatigue. A little rest will, be of great service to 
me.” 

The blushing cheek and the trembling confusion of Nativa 
in uttering these words, contrasted too strongly vrith her 
habitual frankness and decision. This wild beauty of the 
forest spoke the truth when she said she knew not how to lie. 
Like him, she felt an imperative desire to be alone in self- 
communion, to analyze the sensations which she thought so 
like departing life. Rest — sleep-— -she sought it not ; it were 
impossible. Her virgin lips were burning under their first 
kiss of love — her virgin heart beat wild with throbs of its 
first passion. She struggled against a mystery, which an 
occasional flash of light only made more mysterious, as light- 
i>ing in a storm cloud at night renders darkness more 
terrible. 


436 


THE B UGCANEERS. 


After she left Malcolm he began to pace the quarter deck 
with hurried strides. “ What a singular position is mine ? ” 
muttered he, regardless of the billows of the rolling, pitch- 
ing and tumbling sea breaking over the deck, or the labor- 
ing hull of the frigate, straining, quivering, quaking, like 
something in mortal agony. 

“ To feel the most pure and ardent love burning in my heart, 
to know that I am beloved, and to be compelled to endure the 
j)resence and to^ witness th® odious and dishonorable designs 
of a rival — and such a rival— one who recognizes no rights 
in others, however sacred, and halts at no obstacle that man 
or devil can raise, — fatal oath that binds me to another! 
Why did I not sooner see the false light I have too faitii- 
fnlly followed ?' I ought to have known that Isabel Sando- 
val is only an embodiment of a dream ot a visionary recluse 
— not love. I should never have delivered myself, bound 
Tiand and foot with evergreen withes to this Delilah, as I have 
done. Must this vow — I call it my shame — stay the sun of 
my youth at its meridian ? Must I sacrifice my future — 
the happiness of one entire life — for one moment of stu- 
pidity and folly ? What prevents me from giving Isabel 
Sandoval her freedom and taking mine ? Why, honor. The 
Malcolms have never been false to their word — all have been 
loyal and true to the motto on their escutcheon, ‘ Do your 
duty^ come what may!' I am a Malcolm, and I know how 
to suffer and to endure. 

“But, however,” continued he, with a sad smile, “my 
powers of endurance will not have so long a trial as my 
fancy paints. What a fool a man makes himself at times ? 
Here I am singing doleful jeremiads about the future, while 
standing on a sinking deck on a storm-tossed ocean, and 
my life measured by seconds.* But thank God for one boon 
— though all of us perish Nativa is saved in death from the 
pollution of crime — the defiling touch of Laurent’s lust. I 
will do my duty, come what may.” 

Shaking himself loose, as it were, from these reflections, as 


JETSAM AND FLOTSAM, ] 437 

gloomy as they were useless, Malcolm turned his attention 
to the more pressing duties of his command. 

Although the violence of the wind had increased, he ob- 
served with dismay that the speed of the frigate had sens- 
ibly decreased, though no reduction had been made in her 
canvas. 

“ Come, shipmates, keep the pumps going,” said he to the 
men, seeing them desert the pumps. 

The men paid no attention to the order. “ By my faith, 
comrade,” said one of them, “ since die we must, we prefer 
rest to work. We know you to be a bold, brave and skill- 
ful officer ; but may the devil twist my neck this instant if 
we budge to obey any more orders. How can you expect 
sixteen men, worn down, without sleep or rest, to save a 
ship, rated for eighty seamen, leaking like a riddle ? It is 
right down foolish. After four hours’ hard work we have 
not reduced the water in the hold an eighth of an inch. 
Bah ! let the ship go to the devil in her own way. See, the 
captain is sleeping — that is the best answer we can give. 
Follow our example — not his — drink deep and the devil 
won’t come any sooner by it.” 

In fact, the crew, completely discouraged, had knocked 
out the head of a barrel of brandy to drown despair in the 
stupefaction of drunkenness. Their dull eyes, maudlin ar- 
ticulation and staggering gait proved too well to Malcolm 
the folly of issuing further orders to them. 

One man obeyed his orders — that was Jalman — who had 
passed the ordeal of his first battle without a scratch, and 
considered himself a veteran. 

“ Sir Ismail Malcolm,” said he, with sententious gravity, 
trying to stand erect and walk steady, “ those fellows are 
all cowards. In vain have I told them that I have promised 
two silver candlesticks to my patron saint if he would carry 
us safe to port, and consequently they have nothing to fear. 
They would not believe me ; they are the rankest heathens 
I know. I will work the pumps myself— -you shall see.” 


438 


^ TIIE BUCCANEERS. 

Jalman, under the exhilarating influence of the brandy he 
had taken, supposed that he alone could work the leverage 
of the force pump which required eight men at each arm, 
and was no little surprised when he found that he could not 
move the piston. 

“ Ah, it will not work,” said he ; “ that is very strange.” 
Then after a pause he add-ed, “ Ah, I understand it all now 
— it is the way my saint has of telling me not to trouble 
myself; that the silver candlesticks are sufficient ; he accepts 
the ofier.” 

“ Sit down by me, Jalman,” said his master ; “ I do not 
wish an honest lad like you to die drunk.” 

Jalman, flattered as he was to be seated by his master, 
could not forbear casting a long lingering look at the cask 
of brandy in which the crew were dipping without stint or 
measure. 

Malcolm, convinced of the inutility of remonstrances, en- 
treaties or threats, issued no more orders to the crew. He 
admitted to himself that they could not be blamed for refus- 
ing to work any longer. 

An hour passed, and this short lapse of time was sufficient 
to show that the frigate could not float until sundown. 

“ Laurent,” said Malcolm in a whisper, leaning over the 
Buccaneer chief sleeping on deck, “ I require your assist- 
ance.” 

At this Laurent sprang to his feet, though he appeared to 
be* sleeping soundly. 

“ What is it, comrade ? ” said he with the same coolness 
and composure as if he was following the thread of an ordi- 
nary conversation. 

“The men are drunk, they refuse duty, and we are going 
down,” was the cool reply of Malcolm. 

“ What can I do in that case ? ” said Laurent. “ It was 
unnecessary to awake me for that ; the crew are right.” 

“ Shall we not at least attempt to launch the barges ? ” 
said Malcolm; “ v/e have no time to lose.” 


JETSAM AND FLOTSAM. 


439 


“ That is evident,” said Laurent ; “let us try.” 

Although Laurent affected to show neither ill humor nor 
weakness, it was evident to Malcolm that the Buccaneer 
chiefs physical strength was exhausted and he was incapable 
of giving any personal aid. 

“ What I want, Laurent,” whispered Malcolm in his ear, 
“ is that you speak to the crew. I will see to the rest. One 
more word — what must we do with the wounded, how take 
them with us ? But first let us launch the barges.” 

Malcolm went below ; the cabin floor was under water. 

“ Nativa,” he called. 

“ Here I am,” said she, coming out of her state room. 

“ Were you sleeping, Nativa? ” said he. 

“ Yes — I — was sleeping,” said she, with a hesitating em- 
barrassment. 

“Quick upon deck,” said he; “the frigate is sinking, and 
we are about to launch the barges.” 

When Malcolm regained the deck he was astonished to 
find Laurent, whom he supposed at the last stage of physi- 
cal prostration, actively engaged in endeavoring to arouse 
his men to a sense of their duties. 

But the crew, stupefied with brandy, stretched on the 
deck, heard with sottish indifference the words of their 
hitherto all-powerful chief, and showed no disposition to 
obey him. 

“ Men,” said Laurent to them at length, “ I am strong 
enough to keep you from the lingering death your coward- 
ice is preparing for you. I will just go and order Requin 
to fire the powder in the magazine. Good-bye, to you all.” 

These words, uttered with his characteristic coolness and 
determination, struck terror to the hearts of the drunken 
crew. Two or three made an effort to arise and restrain him. 

“ Death to the man who attempts to restrain me,” said 
Laurent, drawing one of his pistols and cocking it; “I will 
blow out his brains.” 

Then he strode off with a slow and haughty step. 


440 


THE B VUGANEEBS. 


‘‘Pretend to be frightened and beg for them,” said Lau- 
rent, in a whisper to Malcolm, as he was passing him. 

Malcolm understood the hint, took his cue and played his 
part with rare address and tact. 

“ Captain,” said he in a loud tone, “ I entreat you to wait 
one moment. I have neyer refused to obey your orders ; I 
do not deserve to share the very just fate of those muti- 
neers. Before you execute your threat allow me time to 
launch a barge to save myself.” 

Laurent hesitated. 

Malcolm went on with feverish anxiety. “ Captain, life is 
too dear to give it up without a struggle. Who knows but 
what I may fall in with a ship and that before a month 
hence I will be at the head of a gallant crew and capture a 
rich Spanish argosy ? What joy I shall feel when rolling in 
gold, with power to gratify every. wish ; I shall be able to 
say, ‘ To myself ^ myself alone^ I owe my happiness.’’ For 
the last time, captain, I pray you before you execute your 
fearful resolve, give me time to get away.” 

“Let me go with you, master,” said Jalman. 

Laurent appeared to reflect, while Malcolm, affecting the 
greatest anxiety, regarded him with a supplicating expres- 
sion of entreaty. 

“ Comrade,” replied Laurent at length, “ your request is 
a reasonable one. I give you ten minutes to launch one of 
the barges.” 

Instantly the whole crew, who had lain down in sullen 
despair to die, sprang to their feet to assist in launching the 
barges. 

Laurent shrugged his shoulders in scornful pity. “ Men 
are only grown children,” said he ; “ to govern them or lead 
them it is only necessary to know their weak points or 
stimulate their base passions. Imbeciles who obeyed be- 
cause they feared, in the baseness of terror forgot that the 
magazine is under water, and that I could not have executed 
my threat had I attempted to do so.” 


JETSAM AND FLOTSAM. 


441 


The frigate had three barges. The crew very naturally 
ran to the one hauled on deck between the main and mizzeii 
masts ; but, alas, scarcely was it swung a foot from the deck 
than it parted in the middle ; it had been stove by round 
shot. The barge on the starboard quarter davits was found 
on examination to be shot-riddled ; it would not float. This 
discovery crushed the crew — the same men who had but a 
moment ago sullenly and sottishly laid themselves down to 
die without one effort at salvation, were now horror-stricken 
at the thought that their fate was sealed and escape impos- 
sible. 

Malcolm now ran to the barge on the larboard quarter ; 
that had not been exposed to the fire of the galleon ; it was 
found uninjured. True to their Buccaneer instinct, it was 
loaded with a complement of cutlasses, rifles, pistols, board- 
ing axes and ammunition — but no water or provisions — and 
then lowered into the sea without swamping — a difficult 
task when the waves were rolling so fearfully — and by a 
spring line from the main yard towed under the mizzen 
yard clear of the hull. Two men swung themselves by a 
rope from the mizzen yard into the barge, secured the oars 
to the trail ropes and rigged the rudder. 

Come, Nativa,” said Laurent, “time is precious. Your 
friend. Sir Ismail, has rigged the basket to swing you clear 
of the waist and lower you into the barge — hurry.” 

ISTativa, before she seated herself into the basket — a frame 
of wicker work used on ships to lower women, children and 
timid persons into an open boat, by means of a block and 
tackle, from the yard arm when the high seas are likely to 
stave a boat alongside — for some moments hesitated. 

“ But the wounded, below the deck ? ” said she. 

“ Silence, hTativa,” exclaimed Laurent. “Do you not see 
that the barge is too small to contain the well and hearty ? 
The exigencies of war are at times cruel and inexorable ; 
we must think no more of those unfortunate men — we must 
persuade ourselves that they were killed in battle.” 


442 


THE B UGGAEEER8. 


So saying, he seized Nativa and put her into the basket 
and gave the order to the halyard men to hoist away. 

Malcolm shuddered when he saw her swing over the 
quarter railing and hang pendulous oyer the yawning sea. 
Nativa, pale with a woman’s terrors in a scene so awful, 
kept ber eyes fixed upon Malcolm with a serene expression 
of a woman’s trust and hope and love. . She knew he 
feared for her and her alone — that was heaven enough for 
her. 

She was finally lowered into the barge, after many fruit- 
less efforts of the two men in it, swaying in a guy rope to 
keep it steady, amid pitching and tumbling waves. 

One hour later only two men stood on the deck of the 
Buccaneer frigate ; those two were Malcolm and Laurent. 

“ I fear, comrade,” said Lanrent, “ that before we can ship 
into the barge the frigate will go down, and the suction 
drag the barge with her.” 

The tremendous seas, the rolling and lurching of the sink- 
ing ship, were such that it required all the strength of the 
sixteen men straining upon the oars to keep the barge head 
to wind out of the trough of the sea ; the tiller of the frigate 
having been abandoned, she had broached to and was drift- 
ing sideways before the hurricane. Ten or fifteen minutes 
were required for an active man to warp himself out on the 
mizzen yard, swing himself down by a rope, and drop into 
the barge as it arose on the top of a wave. 

But Malcolm, crippled by a wound in the thigh, which 
was now swollen, painful and inflamed, and Laurent, weak- 
ened by the blood of two wounds, physically prostrated, 
W’ould each have required a quarter of 'an hour to join their 
companions in the barge. 

There were a thousand chances against one that the frigate 
would go down ere that time passed. 

Already those deadly, sickening lurches — the death-rattle 
of a sinking ship — were becoming longer, and the recoil 
more sluggish and laboring. 


JETSAM AND FLOTSAM, 


443 

Comrade,” said Malcolm, “ religion forbids Siicide, but 
it sanctions martyrdom. In sacrificing ourselves for our 
fellow beings we commit no crime, we fulfill a duty.” 

Malcolm then leant over the quarter railing and gathering 
all his strength in one last effort, shouted, “ Barge ahoy ! ” 
in a voice which was heard above the terrific din around, 
“ the ship is going down — cast loose — and stand clear — 
Nativa, adieu.” 

Then turning to the Buccaneer chief he continued, with 
sublime composure, “ I ask your pardon for having disposed 
of your life without consulting you, but time is inexorable.” 

Sir Ismail,” replied Laurent, grasping the hand of his 
companion, “ your heroism is sublime and I adore it ; we 
both know how to die. You, sustained by your virtue, and 
I by bitter contempt of human life.” 

While Laurent was speaking a thrilling scene was passing 
in the barge. 

The instant the barge crew heard the order of Malcolm 
they cast loose their tow line and put out from the frigate. 
The rolling of one single wave carried them half a cable’s 
length from the wreck, when I^ativa arose from her seat 
and addressing the men with all the energy of despair, said, 
“ My friends, I entreat you put back to the frigate. What ! 
can you have the inhumanity, the dastardly cruelty, to desert 
those who did not hesitate to sacrifice themselves for you ? 
It will be the brand of shame, which time can never efface, 
which will ever follow you like the curse of Cain. Come, 
be true to yourselves — back to the frigate. Do not give the 
brethren of the seas the right to point at you and say. 
There goes one who deserted his captain. Come, — back to 
the frigate.” 

IS! ativa, speaking with all her passionate eloquence, stand- 
ing like a sea nymph upon the sea foam, displayed a cour- 
age so extraordinary in her sex, a beauty so fascinating in 
the wild disorder of her floating hair and drapery, that the 
Buccaneers, fascinated, subdued, laid upon their oars. 


444 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


But tliii? was only momentary. “Nativa,” said one of 
them, “ you know that we all love you. You have seen us 
under fire too often to doubt our courage. If we refuse to 
obey your order it is because we know that obedience is 
folly -only suicide.” 

“ Brothers of the sea,’^ replied Nativa, and there was an 
inspiration of madness in her eye, “ you know that the Holy 
Virgin hears my prayers. I will pray that she smite you 
with her wrath ; I will curse you all — ^not one of you shall 
ever survive the commission of this crime.” 

The Buccaneers, men so calm under the fire of battle, so 
terrible in the assault, of such indomitable endurance, were, 
as sailors usually are, extremely superstitious ; they trombled 
Vv^hen they heard these thrilling anathemas from the lips of 
an inspired prophetess. 

“ IsTativa,” said the spokesman, “ you could ask of us 
nothing that we would more willingly grant, were it within 
the range of human possibility, than to save Laurent and his 
brave companion, Sir Ismail. You see the hull of the frigate 
is below the surface of the water. All we can do is to wait 
until the suction eddy is over and stand by to pick them up.” 

This prospect of safety, a compromise between fear and 
duty, held out by the spokesman, which his companions 
affected to believe, seemed to determine their course. They 
laid on their oars and remained stationary as far as the roll- 
ing of the waves would permit them. 

Oh, the cowards — what time lost,” murmured Hativa, 
wringing her hands in agony and sinking down faint into 
her seat. 

During the whole of this scene — the act requiring less 
time than description — Jalman, who had sat with his head 
sunk upon his breast and his brow gathered into a scowl, 
now sprang to his feet and brandished an axe. “ Hay thens 
and Pagans,” said he, “ if you do not instantly return to the 
frigate I will drive this axe through the bottom of this boat 
and send you all to the bottom.” 


JETSAM AND FLOTSAM, 


445 


This act of Jalman was too significant for comment or 
argument. It was self-evident that with one blow of his 
axe he could stave the boat and execute his threat. 

In this critical position the Buccaneers could not hesitate 
— they obeyed, by pulling with all their might against the 
wind to the frigate, which being to the windward drifted 
towards them. As the barge and the frigate neared each 
other Malcolm and Laurent were seen seated on the taffrail 
— that and the hatch combings being the only parts of the 
deck above water. 

“ Come, quick, Ismail,” said Nativa, stretching out her 
hands to him as the barge came under the lee quarter of 
the frigate. 

The hull now careened to the leeward, bends under, ren- 
dered transhipment comparatively easy. Laurent and Mal- 
colm went over the lee railing into the barge. 

“ Thank you, shipmates,” said Laurent with careless indif 
ference. Knowing nothing of the intervention of Kativa or 
Jalman, he thought he was indebted to the barge crew for 
his rescue. 

“ Kativa,” said Malcolm, seating himself by her side and 
taking her hand in his, “ my last prayer was for you ; but 
God has been pleased not to separate us.” 

While Ismail was yet speaking, a fearful cry arose from 
among the crew of the barge. The frigate, scarce a pistol 
shot distant from them, went down to the bottom of the 
sea, carrying with her all the wounded in the battle with 
the galleon ; all the treasures from the sacking of Granada. 

“ Well, shipmates, pull steady and strong to keep the 
barge before the wind on an even keel,” said the calm voice 
of command from Laurent. Unless we soon fall in with 
a friendly sail, which I think is very unlikely, we may soon 
•envy the fate of our lost friends. All is over with them; 
they have died without suffering the cruel agonies of thirst 
and hunger. We need not mourn for them — peace be to 
their ashes.” 


446 


THE B UGGANEER8. 


A half an hour after the loss of the frigate the sun went 
down and night covered with its darkness the frail open 
boat, dancing upon the rolling waves of a stormy ocean. 

ISTativa, with her head resting upon the shoulder of Mal- 
colm, her hand clasped in his, felt such holy resignation, 
such serenity of spirit, such happiness, that she inwardly in 
her heart of hearts thanked the Holy Yirgin for the ordeal 
through which she was passing. 


CHAPTER XLYIII. 

TIMELY AID. 

The night which followed the loss of the frigate was one 
of horror for the suiwivors, on the wide ocean, tossed in an 
open boat. 

The hurricane, so far from abating, increased in violence, 
threatening every instant to capsize the barge. 

The Buccaneers, after settling to the new condition of 
things, uttered neither regrets or complaints. Long famil- 
iarity with danger, contempt of life, replaced in a measure 
that Christian resignation in which they were by education 
and habit deficient. They had but animal courage, but it 
was animal courage to the highest degree. 

At every wave which broke over the barge and covered 
the crew with spray Nativa gently pressed the hand of Mal- 
colm. This gentle iiressure of the hand of the fair being 
who was sublime in her simple trust, hope and love, pro- 
duced an extraordinary sensation in the heart of Malcolm. 
Worn down as he was with fatigue, beginning to feel the 
first fires of an inflamatory fever from his wounds, he no 
longer exercised the faculties of reason, but suffered his im- 
agination to roam in the wildest fields of fancy. 

It seemed to him that the dark and threatening clouds 
which blackened the horizon were rolling up like a scroll 


TIMELY aid: 


447 

and unveiling a gorgeous sky filled with large and glittering 
stars, and that the terrific voice of the stormy ocean was hut 
the gentle murmur of the evening breeze stirring the leaves 
of some grand enchanted forest. Besides, had he possessed 
all the powers of reason, all the strength of perfect health, 
it would have been vain to converse with his fair companion 
in misfortune — the howling of the storm was deafening and 
silenced all converse of words. When the night was two- 
thirds spent he slept the sleep of thed nature and exhausted 
physical powers. 

“How strange and incomprehensible,” murmured Nativa. 
“ I might say that this sleep of his refreshes me as though I 
slept myself. For a long time I have remarked that I live 
a spirit of his — not of myself. Is he the embodiment of my 
soul? It is certain I feel. I know I would never survive 
his death. What an um-eflecting being I have been untH 
now? Every instant strange things appear, of the existence 
of which I never dreamed. even.” 

The next day, when a gloomy leaden sky succeeded the 
darkness of night, the barge presented a strange sight. 
Nativa, fresh and smiling like a dew laden rose in the morn- 
ing, while around her grouped Buccaneers — stout, strong, 
bearded men, seasoned to aU fatigues, privations and dangers 
■ of the mighty deep — haggard from moral and j)hysical pros- 
tration. 

Leaving the ship with such precipitation, under such des- 
perate circumstances — that is to say when the ship had so 
far filled with water as to loose steerage and began to make 
those long lurches so pecuhar to ships fast filling and sink- 
ing — they thought not of provisions, but of arms. 

Laurent, in speaking of the wounded left behind to a 
speedier death, with good reason said, “Who knows but 
what we shall soon envy the fate of those poor fellows ? ” 

Fasting ever since the previous morning their lank jaws 
and wolfish eyes too weU told of the torturing hunger and 
thirst that was devouring them. But none murmured. 


448 


THE BUCCAHEEBS. 


Towards midday a copious shower of rain relieved their 
thirst and kindled their hopes ; it indicated the lulling of 
the storm. 

About three o’clock in the afternoon the wind began to 
lull, and although the waves continued to roll like mountains 
of quicksilver, the barge could be kept free of water. 

Suddenly a cry of, “ Sail to the windward ! ” chilled every 
heart with joy ; every man sprang from his seat with such 
precipitation that the barge was near being capsized. In 
fact scarcely a quarter league off their starboard quarter was 
a brigantine, with every sail set, in defiance of the huriicane, 
close hauled upon the wind, and which the high seas had 
prevented those in the barge, so low in the water, from see- 
ing sooner. 

At the sight of that timely aid, which Providence in such 
a seasonable hour had sent, the Buccaneers indulged in ex- 
travagant manifestations of joy ; but quickly their hearts 
sank within them when one of them suggested that it might 
be a Spaniard. 

• ‘ Have we not our arms ? Can we not take her ? ” was the 
gruff reply of the taciturn Kequin. . 

“Cheer up, shipmates,” said Laurent, “that is a friendly 
sail. There is but one man in this wide world who would 
carry aU of his canvas at a time like this — and that is 
Montbars.” 

At the name of Montbars a thrill of joy electrified the 
hearts of the wayworn survivors of the wreck. 

“Montbars, Montbars! ” exclaimed the joyous Malcolm, 
aroused from a severe somnolent dream. “ Oh, Nativa, you 
were indeed our blessed angel of mercy.” 

“ I am not quite sure of that,” said Laurent, with a dubi- 
ous shake of his head and a sinister smile. “ It is more than 
probable that as low as we lay in this sea he does not and 
cannot see us. He is flying by us like a comet through 
space. It is too soon to crow. It will soon be too late to 
hope.” 


TIMELY AID. 


449 


The manner in which these words were uttered greatly- 
shocked Malcolm. “ Truly comrade,” said he, “ one might 
infer from your style that you would be pleased to have 
your ominous proj)hecy realized.” 

“ I — why so ? Well, yes I would,” replied Laurent with 
an expression of concentrated rage and hatred. 

“ Why should I stoop to a falsehood ? ” he continued, be- 
fore the astonished Malcolm could find time to reply. 
“Why should I cloak my hatred, when I fear not the man 
who inspires it. The island of San Domingo is not large 
enough for us both. One sun only can shine in heaven. I 
or Montbars must die.” 

Presently, from a change in the course of the sail, it was 
evident to the barge crew that they were seen. The brigan- 
tine tacked and stood for them. 

Then those men, who, when death stared them in the 
face in every shape and form quailed not nor murmured, 
burst into frantic cries of joy. 

At this time Montbars was not only regarded by them as 
the first sailor, the greatest sea captain of the age, but one 
of the all powerful genii — a supernatural agent, a demi-god. 

The audacity, sanctioned by impunity — by success — which 
!RIontbars exhibited in daring to carry all sail in such a 
storm as this, was a miracle in the eyes of seamen, at a time 
like t h is when nautical tactics were in their infancy. In 
half an hour after the brigantine had been signaled by the 
survivors of the frigate they stood safe upon her deck. 

Montbars had very skillfully, as he ran by them, tossed a 
tow line, hauled them alongside and landed them on his 
deck without taking in a thread of his canvass. 

“Is it you, my boy?” said he, embracing his nephew. 
“ Blessed be the God of the seas. This mercy rewards all 
my toils, all my hardships, — embrace me — I love you more 
than ever.” 

Very different was his reception of Laurent. He saluted 
biin with exquisite and rigid politeness, and then turned on 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


450 

his heel and was walking away when Laurent called his at- 
tention. 

Montbars,” said Laurent, with a sardonic grin, “ tell me 
frankly, had you known that I was one of the waifs jetsam 
and floatsam from the frigate would you have flown so eagle 
like to the rescue ? Ha, ha ; truly I cannot help laugiiing 
at the long face you must have made at seeing Laurent turn 
up among the crew of an open boat at sea. You have — 
saved me ; only think of that. Your star turns pale, and 
fortune frowns on you.” 

Montbars, cool and composed, heard the mocking raillery 
of Laurent vdthout interruption. 

“Laurent,” replied Montbars, in his grave, modulated 
tone, “ I glorify Almi ghty God that he did send me on your 
track. Your raillery is the grimace of a montebank — not 
the swagger of a bully. AVhy should I desire the death of 
one whom I can neither regard as enemy or rival ? Con- 
ceit has made you a fool. It is true you possess a bravery 
rarely found in men, an unequaled presence of mind in the 
most fearful trials — fertile in resources — a clear and quick 
eye ; all these are yours in no ordinary degree — but for 
what purpose do they serve you?. Simjfly to execute a 
bold and daring coup de main more dazzling than useful, 
and to sustain a game flght against fearful odds. When 
that is said aU is said. Your propensities, your passions, 
render you shallow and ephemeral. You are incapable of 
grand ideas or foresight beyond the present hour. In battle 
you are my equal, but in ordinary life you are no more to 
me than others. Leave off those ridiculous gasconades and 
impotent bravados — they amount to nothing, they are only 
stimulants to vain ambition, and dark spots upon your man- 
hood. You well know and feel in your heart of hearts that 
I fear you not.” 

Montbars spoke with all the calmness of unquestioned 
authority, all the force of command, as one whose right is 
his might, whose reason is liis will. Laurent made several 


TIMELY AW. 


451 

attempts to interrupt him, but they were fruitless. The 
tiger quailed before the eye of the Hon. 

“ Montbars,” said he at length, when the chief was about 
to turn away, “ I am astonished that a man of your reputed 
foresight and prudence should be so reckless as to insult 
me. Take Care. You depend on the fact that between us 
two a personal collision is impossible. But you forget that 
I can be your accuser when we meet in that place where all 
can speak freely face to face, man with man. It shall never 
be said that you can recklessly squander our treasures, com- 
promise our resources and comphcate our future, and not 
one of us raise our voice to call you to an account for this 
abuse of the powers conferred on you by your brethren of 
the sea. I forewarn you, that you will filnd in me an accuser 
who will impeach you without ceremony or mercy.” 

“ Then,” replied Montbars, with a quiet smile, “ you will 
soon have an opportunity to play your ‘ Cicero to my Verres.’ 
Bless the lucky wind that blew me across your track. I am 
now on my way to the ‘ Asylum! ” 

This mysterious reply, incomprehensible to any but an 
initiated Buccaneer, greatly delighted Laurent. “ Did I not 
tell you,” said he merrily clapping his hands, that your star 
was falhng ? ” 

“ Fool,” said Montbars, without the shghtest change in 
tone or expression, “ you forget that when you become an 
obstacle to my plans, then I can and will crush you.” 

The chief of Buccaneers then, with another stiff bow, 
walked away without waiting to hear any reply from 
Laurent. 

“ It is indeed true,” muttered the latter biting his lips to 
the quick, “ that man does not fear me.” 

Montbars, upon leaving Laurent went into the forward 
quarter-deck cabin, where Malcolm had preceded him. He 
found his nephew stretched upon an arm chest and Nativa/ 
kneeling by him. The sight of this fair girl’s face made the 
old chief of Buccaneers smile. 


452 


TEE BUCCANEERS. 


“ Well, my boy,” said he to Malcolm, “ you have received 
your baptism of hre, you have heard the voice of the great 
guns at sea. From what I learn you have fought a grand 
battle for history. ’Tis needless to ask how you bore your- 
self. You are a Malcolm — that suffices. You are wounded ? 
Let me examine the wound. Nativa,” continued he turning 
to her, “ will you go to my cabin and bring me a flask which 
you will find in a bureau drawer ? ” 

While Nativa was gone Montbars examined the wound. 
As soon as he saw it an expression of horror, terror, passed 
over his face. Ere it was seen by the patient the old Bucca- 
neer chief resumed his habitual composure and, in a tone 
of perfect nonchalance, he said, “ It wiU be nothing — the ball 
has cut no arteries nor broken any bones. Some days of 
perfect rest wiU restore you. Do you suffer ? ” 

“ Terribly — terribly, Montbars,” said Malcohn. 

“ Quite i^robable,” was the cool reply. “ The wound has 
inflamed from want of timely care and proper dressing. 
You require rest. A good sleep will revive you.” 

The old man raised his nephew in his arms as though he 
were an infant and carried him into his own cabin and laid 
him on a bed, and then left him to sleep, muttering as he 
went away — with white lips and tears in his eyes — “ Poor 
boy, I fear that his wound will be fatal — his case is desper- 
ate if not hopeless.” 


THE QBOTTO. 


453 


CHAPTER XLIX. 

THE GROTTO. 

Five days had elapsed since Montbars bad picked up at 
sea the survivors of the lost frigate. The sun was setting 
and the brigantine was gliding over the sea before a fair 
and gentle wind at the rate of two leagues an hour; and the 
eyes of Malcolm — reclining upon a sofa upon the quarter 
deck — were roaming over the boundless expanse before 
him, with the Hstless indifference of an invalid to the grand 
and sublime beauties of nature. 

A great change had come over his appearance; his sun- 
ken eyes glared with a feverish fire, his pale, hollow cheeks 
and collapsed features, all indicated extreme suffering and 
weakness. Nativa, seated at his feet, watched him with 
painful anxiety. When Malcolm’s wandering eyes met 
hers she attempted to smile, but it was one of those bitter 
smiles which struggle to check falling tears. 

Montbars, with his hands clasped behind his back and his 
head bent on his breast, promenaded his quarter deck with 
a nervous, irregular step. 

As to Laurent, whether the presence of Montbars was 
disagreeable to him or that his wounds compelled him to 
keep close quarters, for five days he had not left his cabin. 

The cry of “ Land on the lee bow !” uttered by one of the 
foretopmen, aroused Malcolm from his half-waking sleep. 
^‘Nativa,” said he, in a feeble voice, “did I hear cor- 
rectly ? Is land in sight ?” 

“Yes, my Ismail,” rephed Nativa; “have but a httle joa- 
tience, and in a short time you will enjoy the repose you so 
much require, and the nursing you cannot get on board. 
My God, how happy I am — see — my native land once more. 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


454 

It is like a resurrection from the grave.” Nativa, leaning 
over the quarter railing, looked in tke direction indicated 
by the lookout. 

“ It is passing strange,” said she, “that I cannot recognise 
in that distant cloud which looms so distinctly on the hori- 
zon, and which is land, the familiar features of my native 
island, San Domingo.” 

“ That proves, Nativa,” said Montbars, who stopped as he 
was passing her, “that you have a true sailor’s eye.^ We 
are not bound either for Leogane or Tortuga; we are steer- 
ing for the southern coast of Spanish San Domingo.” 

This announcement startled both Malcolm and Nativa. 

A dark cloud passed over the face of Malcolm. “ Have 
we then made a mistake in our reckoning ?” said he. 

“ Boy,” replied Montbars, “ when did I ever make a false 
reckoning in my course ? We are going just where I will 
to go.” . • 

“ Explain, Montbars, I entreat you,” said Malcolm. 

“ Your words and actions are enigmas to me. I cannot 
solve the problem your extraordinary conduct presents. 
Why should you thus; to all appearances, deliver us into 
the hands of om* enemies?” 

“Be not alarmed, my children,” said Montbars, with a 
smile. “We are just as safe as though we were anchored 
in the harbor of Tortuga. I hear the voice of the Grotto. 
The navigation of the ship now requires all the attention I 
can spare.” 

With these words Montbars hurried away, leaving Mal- 
colm and Nativa blank and silent with astonishment. But 
scarcely had he gone ere their astonishment 'was 
heightened by a singular phenomenon. Although the sea 
was comparatively calm and the wind very gentle, sud- 
denly, without any apparent cause, the speed of the ship 
became very rapid as she floated on a current running down 
hfll; at the same time a hoarse, prolonged roar, like that of 
a lion at a distance, fell on their ears, recalling to Malcolm 


THE OR OTTO. 


455 


the familiar sound of the “Monk’s chant.” He shut his eyes 
and for the moment the illusion was complete. He was 
transported to cape Henry. 

An observation made by Malcolm at this time still 
more, if possible, increased his astonishment. It was that 
while the crew of the brigantine seemed to pay no attention 
whatever to these mysteries and appeared to regard them 
as matters of course, his old shipmates of La Serpente 
and companions of the wreck seemed to be as much per- 
plexed as he. Malcolm, raising himself from his couch with 
a painful effort, leant over the railing and looked down on 
the water in the wake of the ship. The speed was so great 
that his head became giddy. It was evident that the brig- 
antine was carried along at the rate of eighteen knots an 
hour — by a rapid and resistless current like a large body of 
water running down a gentle declivity, without breakage. 

But for the nautical infallibihty of Montbars, Malcolm 
would have considered the brigantine lost. 

For an hour the speed of the sliip increased at every 
second. She was standing bows on to the coast — a coast 
appalling to mariners — perpendicular walls of granite, pro- 
tected in front by an abatis of pinacled rocks upon which 
the sea seemed to spend its force. 

This temerity of Montbars was akin to suicide or stupend- 
ous folly. So reckless was it of all the rules and customs 
of seamanship that for the moment Malcolm thought his 
senses deceived him, or that he was under the hallucination 
of a dream. 

“Well, my boy,” said Montbars, “what do you think of ■ 
our fashion of making land now?” 

“ Keason fails, Montbars,” said Malcolm ; “ either my 
eyes or my senses deceive me.” 

“ You are yet to see stranger sights,” said Montbars, with 
a smile. “ Do you see those two perpendicular rocks like 
two advanced pickets rising solitary and alone, which ap- 
pear to lean to each other ?” 


456 


THE BUGCANEEBS. 


‘‘Very distinctly, Montbars,” was the reply. 

“Well, we pass between them,” said Montbars. 

“ That is impossible !” exclaimed Malcolm. “ Between 
those two granite giants you could not steer a skiff.” 

“ The distance misleads you,” said Montbars. “ Those 
rocks are fifty feet apart, but the slightest yawing or devia- 
tion from the centre line would dash us to pieces. Now, I 
must take the helm myself — no more questions just now — 
the bark requires my whole and undivided attention.” 

While Montbars was taking his place at the helm the 
roaring which they had heretofore heard rumbling in the 
distance had now become so intense, swelling apace with the 
speed of the ship, that not a word could be heard on 
deck. 

None were so vividly impressed with such terror, of this 
terrible scene, as Jalman. The sturdy Celt, devoutly cross- 
ing himself, knelt upon deck and prayed fervently. “In 
mercy spare me, my good saint,” he pleaded, “ and believe 
me, that I had no hand or part in these works of the devil, 
and that if I could have my way, I would soon be on dry 
land. Save me from this evil and danger, and I will add 
two more silver candlesticks to those I have already vowed. 
Mercy, my good saint; this ship is about to be dashed upon 
those terrible rocks — we are lost.” 

That moment — it was but a moment — when the ship 
darting like an arrow on the wing between those two terri- 
ble rocks, was one of those solemn moments which leave a 
deeper impression on the memory than all other events of 
after life. 

AU lips were mute; aU cheeks were pale; every heart was 
still; every eye was turned on Montbars. He only smiled 
— and as he smiled the brigantine passed unharmed through 
the strait, seething and boiling between these two huge 
propylons to find itself in front of a titanic natural arch, 
dug in the perpendicular face of the sea wall by the action 
of the waves, or rifted by some volcanic eruption. 


THE GROTTO. 


467 


Tlie sea rolling under the arch of this Grotto, expelling 
the air with the roar of a furnace blast, laden with sul- 
phuric exhalations so pungent that Malcolm, prostrated as 
he was, came near fainting. 

“ Lo, here is the mouth of hell !” ejaculated Jalman. 
‘‘ Mercy, my good saint ! save me from the clutches of the 
Devil.” 

The scene was now the sublime of terror, such as it was 
impossible to describe. Whirled by a current as swift and 
as resistless as a cataract of quicksilver from the brow of a 
mountain, the brigantine appeared to leap down a precipice 
and disappear in darkness. 

Presently a solt mellow light, like that of the sun through 
the tinted panes of a cathedral window, fell on the deck, 
and the ship became still on the smooth and limped bosom 
of a vast subterranean lake, which ghttered like a disk of 
corrugated silver in the mellow light, which came straggling 
down through the seams and crevices in the earth above. 

“Well, what think you of this place, my boy?” said 
Montbars, breaking the awful silence of this imposing 
scene. “ I doubt if the imagination of man, in its grandest 
efforts of fiction, could create what the handiwork of nature 
here presents.” 

“ Where are we, Montbars ?” said Malcolm “ Do not 
abuse my ignorance. In my present mental and bodily 
condition I will accept any explanation you can give.” 

“ We are in a famous Grotto, vdiich, though unexplored, is 
well known to exist and is called the ‘ Grotto of the Antil- 
les.’ The entrance to this grotto is protected by a powerful 
and resistless current, setting in from the sea to its mouth, 
dashing through a broad belt of rocky chemux-de-frUe 
more terrible to the Spaniards, or even to uninitiated Buc- 
caneers, than the maelstrom of Norway. Not one of them 
will venture within ten leagues of it. My brigantine is the 
first and the last and only craft larger than a sail canoe that 
has ever passed under the arch of the Grotto. The first in- 


mi: BUCCANEERS. 


408 

dications of the last terrible earthquake on the island were 
announced to the terror-stricken people of Port an Prince 
by a terrific roar from this Grotto of such intensity that it 
was heard from one end of the island to the other. It is 
on the south coast of Spanish San Domingo, a few leagues 
from the mouth of the river Naiba, one of the largest rivers 
of the island. The territory around belongs to the Span- 
iards, but it is uninhabited.. This territory is covered with 
luxuriant vegetation and has many fine harbors for refitting, 
and abundance of wood, water and provisions. Now as the 
wire edge of your curiosity is taken, let us go on shore. In 
a short time — when we are beyond the reach of listening 
ears or eavesdroppers — I will tell you the motives which 
brought me here, and all the mysteries of the Grotto."’ 

Two sailors, with torches, Montbars, Malcolm and Nativa, 
descended the starboard gangway into a light row boat, and 
landed, with a few strokes of the oars, upon a ledge of rock, 
which like the rim of a basin, formed the circumference of 
this subterranean lake. 

“ Nativa,” said Montbars, pointing to the mouth of a cor- 
ridor excavated in the rock, “ at the end of this passage is 
the sleeping chamber of your patient. Go back with the 
men to the brigantine and bring everything he may re- 
quire.” 

Montbars, taking a torch from one of the men, and lead- 
ing or rather supporting his nephew’s tottering steps, con- 
ducted him along the corridor with the firm and secure 
step of a man who feels himself lord of all he surveys. 

“Lay down on that couch,” said he, upon entering a 
cosily furnished chamber, and lighting with his torch a 
chandelier which threw a blaze of light over the chamber 
and the hall that led to it. 

“ Now,” continued he, seating himself upon a luxurious 
lounge, “ I have already told you of the existence of the 
mysterious association of which I am chief, and into which 
you have refused to be initiated. But your presence here. 


THE GROTTO. 


459 


under circumstances unsought by either of us, attaches 
you in a certain sense to this association. Forget not that 
you have sworn never to reveal what I have confided to you, 
I require no additional oaths. I know you — that suffices. 
This Grotto, which is such a terror to the inhabitants, 
French and Spanish, is the grand temple of our faith, our 
cradle, fortress, treasury, and perhaps our grave. It is to 
us what the catacombs of Home were to the early Christians. 
We call it the Asylum. We flee to it when our enemies are 
too strong for us, because none dare foUow us. Here we 
deposit the public treasures of the association. They are 
immense. As an additional precaution, I have i)ut under 
the treasury department, unknown k) any of the association, 
ten thousand pounds of po-^der. You see, that if by any 
chance, however improbable it may be, the Spaniards 
should discover our retreat and follow us to our sanctuary, 
a quick and terrible death would be the price of their au^ 
dacity. Buccaneer spies in various disguises, scattered 
throughout the country, watch over the entrance of the 
Asylum. Any hostile sail in this latitude would be signaled 
immediately. My presence here to-day is to attend an im- 
portant council, such as our regulations require, to discuss 
and arbitrate upon important measures. All the men who 
sail with me in the brigantine are initiated Buccaneers. 
Many of our associates are already here. Does that sur- 
prise you ? Know then that this Grotto traverses the entire 
breadth of the island from south to north. We ourselves are 
not familiar with all of its ramifications. Many have been 
lost in the mazes of its labyrinth and never been heard of 
afterward. All the Antilles have similar grottos with sea 
entrances, but of less extent. What we call the harbor of 
Tortuga is a similar construction to the Asylum. I have 
nothing more to add now unless to say, that your comrade, 
Laurent, will leave no means untried to make me odious and 
suspicious in the eyes of my brethren. The ambition and 
pride of that man may one day produce a catastrophe; 


460 


TEE BUCCANEERS. 


k 

therefore I have made you my heir. No protestations^ I 
beg you — ^you will displease me by recurring to the subject 
again. I leave you now for a short time, to advise my asso- 
ciates of my arrival here.” 

Montbars, after going some twenty paces from the en- 
trance of the chamber, drew a pistol from his belt and 
fired it. 

A million of deafening echoes reverberated through the 
thousand mazes of the vaulted Grotto. 


CHAPTER L. 

THE ASYLUM. 

The famous Grotto of the Antilles was a succession of 
subterranean temples, connecting with each other by narrow 
labyrinthian corridors or loggia, all of the purest stalactite 
formation, studded with auriferous and crystaline particles. 

In one of the most picturesque of these natural temples, 
used by the Buccaneers as their council chamber, and called 
the ‘‘Asylum,” there transpired, the next day after the 
arrival of Montbars, an event truly unique and charateristic 
of the actors of the scene. 

Fancy oneself under the dome of one of those enchanted 
palaces described in the Oriental literature of the days of 
the Caliphs, ceiled with rays of gold radiating from an enor- 
mous diamond star, resting upon alabastar pillars, with 
pendants like huge cones of fused crystal from the archi- 
trave, and a floor covered with silver moss, and even then 
one has an inadequate idea of the grand and imposing spec- 
tacle, which the natural architecture of the “ Asylum ” pre- 
sented. 

It was a vast natural excavation, made in some remote 
age of geological history by the same volcanic action which 


THE ASYLUM. 


461 


4 

upheaved tlie isles of the Antilles or dug a bed for tlio 
Atlantic ocean, about one thousand feet in diameter and 
one hundred in height — a dome resting upon a succession 
of natural pillars of stalactite formation, like driven snow 
soHdified, with a stucco of gold, silver, and crystal prismatic 
formations, walls frescoed with hchens, hke silver sprigs 
with diamond buds and flowers. 

Countless stalactites and pendant crystalizations, like the 
fairy masonry of the genii, presented a multitudinous diver- 
sity of forms to the dazzled eye — ^resembling in the rays of 
the torchlight, sometimes gigantic prisms of diamond, some- 
times showers of fused metal in the act of descent. 

The orifices of many dark and cavernous recesses, diverg- 
ing from the nave of this temple, appeared to encircle, with 
mysterious darkness, this dazzling mass of light and flame. 

The five thousand initiates of this formidable association 
were here in convention assembled, at the time and place 
ordered by the rules and regulations of their code of laws. 

These Buccaneers, armed to the teeth, stood in pictur- 
esque groups on the unique mosaic of their spacious council 
hall. They were leaning on their long rifles in attentive 
silence while Montbars was speaking. 

“ Brethren of the sea,” said he, “ that hour has come when 
we cease to be obscure adventurers — ^the tools first to be 
used and then disowned by kings and cabinets. Up to this 
hour we have patiently bided our time, to grow in strength, 
in silence and darkness. To-day we emerge from the cata- 
combs of the Grotto — a nation, a power. The role of rovers 
of the sea is now incompatible with our dignity and our 
strength. Heretofore we have been regarded as a motley 
herd of plunderers, recognized by those kings we have served 
as individuals with roving commissions. Now we will be 
known as a power, a people. Seconded by my brave associ- 
ates, I have at my disj)osal enormous resources. With gold 
and steel, what obstacle can stay our progress to empire and 
power? None whatever. 


462 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


“ Brethren of the sea, I have just come from Dublin ; I 
have treated with James II.. king of England ; I have re- 
lieved him in his distress. He has recognized us as a com- 
mercial, maritime and political power, and opened his ports 
to us on the same terms as with those of the most faVored 
nations. That gives us not only political but all the moral 
influence which an alliance with an anointed king — and a 
successor of a long line of anointed kings — gives to our 
jjiterests. He has appointed my nephew, a loyal British 
subject, lord lieutenant of the American colonies. He has 
stipulated that he will act in concert with Louis XIV., of 
Erance, to aid us in wresting the empire of Spanish America 
from the hands of the Spaniards , that our forces shall be 
commanded by our own officers, and that they shall rank 
with French and Enghsh officers. I have plenary powers 
to appoint. 

“ Brethren of the sea, far be it from me to induce you to 
disown your nationalities, or dissever yourselves from your 
glorious past. We become the allies of France and loyal 
England, not the tributaries of their kings or the tools of 
their cabinets — ^we ally with or separate from them as our 
policy or wiU dictates. We will drive the Spaniards out of 
San Domingo without foreign aid — that will soon be done ; 
then Cuba follows, then Carthagena and Central America. 
Then we hold the key of the Antilles and the toll-gate of 
the commercial world. Forget not that Cuba is the key of 
the American archipelago, and that the isthmus of Darien 
is the custom house through which the gold of the Indies 
and the fabrics of Europe must sooner or later pass and 
repass. Once master of these, no power on earth can dis- 
pute the supremacy of the seas with us. In less than ten 
years our posterity will transplant the civilization of Franco 
and England into that beautiful land now darkened by 
Spanish bigotry and blighted by Spanish indolence. My 
eyes are dazzled by the brightness of that glorious future. 

“Were I to choose a spot on earth to be the seat of a 


THE ASYLUM, 


463 


power which would control the future commercial and 
maritime policy of the world, I would choose that beautiful 
isthmus of the tropics, which connects the continents of 
North and South America, which in the course of time and 
human events must become hives of human industry for the 
consumption, reproduction and distribution of material 
wealth. The vision of Constantine, when he transferred the 
seat of empire from the banks of the Tiber to an obscure 
village on the Bosphorous, sinks into insignificance com- 
pared with the grand conception of that commerce that 
must flow westward to gather the gold of the east — crossing 
at right angles the highway of trade between two conti- 
nents — Asiatic in their proportions, the abode of millions. 

One word more, Brethren of the sea. Thanks to long, 
toilsome and laborious study and perhaps to chance, I have 
made some improved changes in the present system of 
naval tactics and navigation — I have discovered, if I may 
use that word, a new marine power. I defy the combined 
agencies of the world to beat us on the sea. The supremacy 
of the seas shall be ours unquestioned and undivided. Do 
you doubt it? forget not what a struggle for existence, 
subhmated by a passion for glory and inspired by a love for 
liberty, has done and can do. The delta of the Bhine was 
a loathsome marsh overflowed by the sea ; it is now the 
home of a powerful people, whose cities are the commercial 
centres of Euro]3e, and whose hands tore the diadem of the 
Caesars from the brow of Philip II. The mud flats at the 
head of the Adriatic became Venice, seated on her hundred 
isles, who, in her day, drove the Turk and Saracen, before 
whom Christendom trembled, from the Mediterranean. The 
navigation of my brigantine into the Grotto, so long scouted 
as the dream of a visionary — is it not already an accom- 
plished fact, sufficient to give you an adequate idea of my 
discovery? Who among you — brave and skillful as you 
are — who of you, I say, could have navigated into the Grotto 
any other craft than a skiff or canoe ? Who of you will 


4G4 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


take upon him to pilot my brigantine, now anchored under 
the arm of the lake, against the current, out to sea again ? 
Let him try it and succeed, I will bow to his genius and 
acknowledge him my superior. 

“Brethren of the sea, I conclude. Ever since I have 
been elected chief of this association I have ever found in 
you concurrence and unanimity. I ask something more to- 
day — I ask passive obedience and absolute self-denial; on 
my part, I promise you the empire of the ocean to make 
you a great and mighty power. Bemember that I have 
never been recreant to my word or failed in the per- 
formance of my obligations. Can I depend on you ?” 

The words of Montbars, insj)ired as he was by the gran- 
deur of the future, breathed such enthusiasm, such 
thorough conviction of the success of his plans, that his 
confederates felt their magnetic power commensurate with 
his own — they responded in frantic shouts of exultation and 
approval. This exultant assent of many voices were in full 
chorus, when one dissenting voice, clear, sonorous and bit- 
terly sarcastic, was heard in protest. It was Laurent. The 
popularity or reputation of this Paladin of the Antilles 
among his confederates was such, that at the first syllablo 
he uttered, silence reigned as if by enchantment. 

“ My friends,” said Laurent, “ I will not imitate Montbars 
in addressing you a discourse on national progress and po- 
litical econom}^, long studied and carefully j)repared. I am 
a man of few words — but beware of him and his doctrines; 
he has dreamed the dream of one of those visionaries who 
chose the phantom of dominion and power among men — 
to die in a ditch. He would make us merry men of the 
sea — politicians, diplomats, Shylocks of political economj^ 
toll-gatherers of mercantile caravans. In a word, he would 
launch us on a way foreign to our antecedents, instincts, 
tastes and habits. He would ignore our past history to 
make us a useful servant in the family of nations. Well, 
what are we ? Why, merry rovers of the sea, setting at de- 


THE ASYLUM, 


405 


fiance all governments and law but our own. What is the 
Alpha and Omega of our lives ? Battle, gold, women, wine. 
For what do we stake our lives, but to procure those luxu- 
ries, those voluptuous delights, those inspiring, exciting 
ideasures, which alone render life desirable ? What to us, 
are those problems, so 23uzzling to the grave owls and ase- 
nine scholastics of state, but Gordian knots, to be cut bj 
the sword ? Why should we be ambitious to be the prehis- 
torical founders of an empire, which exists only in the brain 
of one man and which, if it ever exist at all in the annals 
of men, will be but an atom in history ? . No, never ! A 
short life and a merry one for us. What are empires, i)ray, 
but shadows that pass over the surface of the earth, which 
are but seen ere they are gone. 

“ What are governments of law, but systems of robbery, 
with tod and taxation for many, license for the favored few? 
But with us, all are untaxed and our toil is simply the work 
of taking what we most desire. 

“ That meagre encampment on the banks of the Tiber 
became a mighty city of mihtary robbers, under the Caesars, 
and is now the metropolis of mendicant thieves under the 
successors of St. Peter, who lease Heaven to fools for Peter- 
pence. Zounds, Montbars ! What I do admire in you, is 
your impudence ; it is cool, calculating and comprehensive. 
Bomulus to be Caesar, must slay Bemus; in a word, sacrifice 
us, 3 "Our brethren of the sea, to your ambitious projects. 
You would be solitary and alone— grand, gloomy and pecu- 
liar — in your greatness.* In the arrogance of your pride 
you have dared to tell us, in so many words, ‘ Friends, be- 
come the stepping stone to my grandeur — I will condescend 
to accept your services in transmitting my name to future 
generations.’ Truly there is too much insolence in all this. 
What do you offer in return for the sacrifices you demand 
of us ? Why, forsooth, to exchange our glorious liberty for 
the degradation of slavery — to become your subjects. You 
must, indeed, have a very low opinion of our manhood.”. 


466 


THE BUCCANEEBS 


Laurent after a slight pause and changing his tone from 
sarcastic raillery to bitter invective, went on to say, “ Mont- 
bars, not only do I spurn with all the lofty pride of a free- 
man, the loathsome bondage you jDropose to us, but I go 
further. I impeach you here to your face with having 
treacherously abused our confidence and betrayed our in- 
terests to your selfish ends and personal aggrandizement. 
’Tis vain to wrap yourself up in your dignity. Your arrant 
hypocrisy cannot deceive me. I tear the mask from your 
face. Lo! there you stand, a Scotch refugee, Jacobite, 
whom the Eestoration could not restore to his forfeited es- 
tates and honors, a Buccaneer from necessity, under the 
ban of nations and the anathema of the church. You wish 
to return, like the louty prodigal son and eat your fatted 
calf upon your ancestral acres and pay St. Peter his abso- 
lution fees, by sacrificing your confederates in crime, other- 
wise your companions in arms. 

“ What have you done in Dublin, if your own words be 
true ? Why, you have paid that man who was James II. of 
England and who could not keep a crown on his head three 
short years, and whose inglorious flight has made him the 
laughing stock of Europe, you have paid him, I say, ten 
millions pounds sterling for what ? Wh}^, simply for his ex- 

majesty’s written permission to enter ports, once his, but of 
which, WiUiam III., the de facto king of England, holds the 
key. Eor one-tenth of that sum, the Holy Father at Rome, 
would have given you all the heretic kingdoms and heathen 
lands on the fore-quarters of the globe and an eternal lease 
on Heaven beside. And then his ex-majesty has made the 
nephew of his uncle viceroy of America. And how will 
Mr. Viceroy go to his viceroyalty, say even to Saint Mary’s,, 
the Catholic, Jacobite proprietary and capital of Maryland? 
Will he go with his coronet on his brow, his ermine on his 
shoulders, his star on his breast, his baton in his hand ? 
Not a bit of it — he goes in disguise under an assumed 
name, feigns loyalty for safety, meets his fellow Jacobites by 


THE ASYLUM. 


467 


stealth, recognizes them by signs, and is liable to be 
nabbed and ironed by any low emissary of the reigning 
dynasty. He will read his commission, not to the legis- 
lative authorities of the province in the State House, but to 
a midnight conclave in the vaulted cellar of an old Catholic 
chapel, long since closed and in ruins — I know the place. 
He is a good boy, that nephew; he fights like a game-cock, 
but he is very soft about the heart. He has lovely woman 
on the brain.” 

Here Laurent made a digression, and with keen sarcastic 
drollery related the history of Ismail Malcolm’s bootless 
passion for Isabel Sandoval and his sober passionless love 
for Nativa. ' 

A loud roar of laughter from the throats of the many 
bronzed figures rewarded this travesty. 

The eyes of Laurent sparkled with malicious triumph. 
He well knew the power of ridicule over such natures, and 
he had made his rival in love ridiculous. He had stung 
Montbars, his rival in power, to the quick. 

Eesuming in a more serious tone, he went on to say: 
“ From what you have done in Dublin, we can tell in ad- 
vance what you will do in Paris. Louis XIV, with sarcastic 
politeness and more sarcastic brevity, will, for the ten mil- 
lion pounds sterling, give you his royal permission to sweep 
English and Spanish commerce from the seas, with your own 
broom. But what is all that to you? The money is not 
yours. It is a shrewd bargain for you. Brethren of the 
sea, you have heard my charges. Montbars has the right 
to defend himself. I defy him to prove his innocence.” 

The attack of Laurent, timed and engineered with such 
address, produced upon the members of the Buccaneer 
council an indescribable effect. 

Laurent’s appeal to their gross animal instincts, their 
depraved tastes, their cupidity, their inherent leaven of in- 
subordination, their spirit of individual sovereignty, and the 
merciless ridicule with which he had enveloped Ismail Mai- 


468 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


colm, was a master-piece of Satanic craft and subtlety. 

Montbars, but a moment ago their idol, now appeared to 
them a traitor and an enemy. “ Brethren of the sea !” he 
exclaimed, without the loss of a second, for he thoroughly 
understood that an eternity was in a moment now, “ so far 
from concealing the fact, that I have loaned the lawfully 
anointed king of England ten million pounds sterling, to 
recover his kingdom and crown from the hands of the 
usurper, 'William of Orange, I announced it as a creditable, 
financial and political operation. The taking of Carthagena 
alone, will return the loan fourfold.” 

“ That expedition to Carthagena will not take jfiace !” ex- 
claimed Laurent, furiously. “ It is a delusion of a visionary. 
I, too, had advices from the court of Versailles, and that 
too without paying ten millions for it. I have received 
positive assurance from Mons. Ponchartrain, that the king’s 
policy was continental and not maritime, and that the mea- 
gre loan of ships and men to James II., so called, was only a 
feint to detain William of Orange in England. But no 
matter, brethren of the sea, we have lost only ten paltry 
millions. Our well-beloved chief will the more enjoy his 
own. Let us all glorify God and Montbars.” 

At this bitter and well timed irony, a storm of yells, 
curses, threats and execrations against their once popular 
chief, raged like a hurricane, under the vaulted roof of the 
“Asylum.” 

A sad and scornful smile parted the lips of Montbars ; 
the injustice and ingratitude of the fickle crowd did not 
surprise him. He knew their moral w^eakness as well as 
their physical strength. With haughty brow and folded 
arms, he was waiting, until the tempest, excited against him 
by the perfidy of Laurent, should spend its noisy breath. 
When the word '^Silence’' in an authoritative tone rever- 
berated from arch to arch, through the vast excavation 
above, the din of human voices and all was still. The Buc- 
caneers, expecting additional charges or confirmation of 


THE ASYLUM. 


469 


tliose already made, were mute with suspended breath. 
Then a man, who, during the session had sat silent and 
unseen in one of the dark niches of this temple, emerged 
and with a stately stride stalked through the mass until he 
stood in the centre. At the sight of this new comer, a keen 
sensation of curiosity, astonishment a-nd awe pervaded the 
Buccaneer council. 

“ Ducasse, governor of French San Domingo,” muttered 
Laurent with a sco-wl. 

Although the royal authority did not weigh very heavily, 
politically or commercially, uj)on the colonists of San Do- 
mingo, its moral influence was very powerful toward the 
close of the seventeenth century. Louis XLV. of France 
was regarded by French subjects as the vicergerent of Al- 
mighty God on earth, and the colonists of San Domingo, 
who knew that the licensed immunities they enjoyed could 
be taken away by the same hand that gave them, showed 
great deference and respect to such governors as the king 
commissioned, and above all to Ducasse, who had acquired 
a fortune and a fair reputation as a Buccaneer^ before he 
was commissioned. Thus, officially and individually, his 
influence among the Buccaneers was very great. AU could 
testify favorably to the loyalty and firmness of his charac- 
ter. All knew that however readily he could be appeased 
by rej^entance and submission, he was harsh, fierce and im- 
placable to any opposition. 

“ Friends and companions,” said he, breaking the solemn 
silence, “ I come not to you as the representative of his ma- 
jesty, the king of France. I came here to revive the re- 
miniscences of my youth, and to recall the most delightful 
period of my life. But if ever Montbars proves recreant to 
his duty as a subject of the king, I wiU either resign my 
commission or crush him without mercy — my honor re- 
quires this of me. Brethren of the sea, you have just shown 
an amount of ingratitude and injustice which afflicts me 
most grievously. Montbars has every claim upon your re- 


470 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


spect and gratitude. Those ten millions, which a jealous 
rival charges him as recklessly squandered, are far from be- 
ing misspent. Louis of France will never be false to his 
word, though that word be rmattested either by signature or 
parchment. I promise you on my honor that the king will 
sanction the expedition to Carthagena, and if you desire it, it 
will take plax;e.” 

“If, even against the interests of the king?” was the 
sneering interpolation of Laurent. 

Ducasse reflected for a moment and then rephed, eyeing 
Laurent keenly in the face, “Yes, Mons. Laurent, even 
against the wishes of the king. One scratch of my pen re- 
stores me to my personal liberty as a Buccaneer; and 
neither my arm or rifle is past service. There are times 
when I am sorely tempted to use them.” 

These words, uttered in that cool, resolute tone which 
ever awes an excitable mass, instantly turned the tide 
towards Montbars. They crowded around him and renewed 
their assurances of confidence and devotion. Laurent van- 
ished from the circle of light into darkness. 

“Many thanks, comrade,” said Montbars to Ducasse, a 
half hour afterwards, when they were left alone. “ I did 
not expect so much from you. But have you not recklessly 
compromised yourself? Suppose the king should not sanc- 
tion the expedition?” 

“ Then, comrade,” rephed Ducasse, “I wfll write to the 
king and say. Sire, you have assassinated one of your faithful 
subjects’ — then blow out my brains.” 

“You may say,” said Montbars, “We blow out our brains.” 

“ Even so,” replied Ducasse. 

Montbars, upon returning to Malcolm, found him in a 
raging fever — a Buccaneer surgeon counting the beats of 
his pulse. “WeU,” said Montbars, eagerly, “how is your 
patient.” 

“ Gangrene has supervened,” said the surgeon, “ and am- 
putation has now become a question of life or death.” 


THE CONSULTATION. 


471 


Nativa, with a shriek, threw herself between the surgeon 
and his patient as though she sought to shield a victim. 
“ None shall touch him!” she exclaimed; and then kneehng 
with clasped hands and quivering lips, she murmured, 
^^Holy Virgin, save him, if you do not desire my death.” 


CHAPTEK LI. 

THE COHSULTATIOH. 

Prom the subterraneous lake, in which the brigantine of 
Montbars was moored, there ran a canal, like a covered alley 
or miner’s gallery, which connected the lake with the delta 
of the Naiba. This tortuous and narrow canal had been 
previously explored by Montbars, in a canoe, and wherever 
the natural excavation was too narrow to admit the passage 
of the hull of the brigantine it was enlarged by artificial 
means. The seaward current, which entered the lake with 
all the fury and rapidity of the maelstrom, flowed out of it 
into this, canal with the more moderate speed of tide-water. 
Montbars, by taking down all his light spars and yards 
and reducing his fore and mainmast to what sailors call 
“ stumps,” followed the current through this canal, and 
entered the Naiba the next day after the sitting of the 
council in the Asylum,” and thence gained the open sea 
and, following the coast line, found himself ofi* French San 
Domingo in friendly waters, where Spanish cruisers are not 
likely to be found. 

Ducasse, Montbars, Malcolm, Nativa and Jalman were 
gathered together on the same deck. 

Montbars, seated by the hammock in which his wounded 
nephew lay, was sad and gloomy, his mournful eyes were 
fixed upon the pale and emaciated features of the patient. 


472 


THE BUGGANEEBS, 


In vain he sought some ray of consolation; but at every 
instant certain unfailing symptoms of dissolution met his 
searching gaze. “ Poor boy,” said he, rising hastily and 
striding olf, unable to endure further contemplation. “ Why 
have I launched him on a voyage for which he was not des- 
tined ? It was so easy for me to have given him an ample for- 
tune and a peaceful, happy life. I have been too selfish. I 
yearned for a heart that would beat responsive to my own, 
a strong arm to assist mine. I should have consulted his 
happiness, not my glory. My brother, curse me not. If 
from Heaven you read my heart, you must see that to save 
your child I would sacrifice my few remaining years of plea- 
sure. Visionary hope, must I ever be a spirit of evil ? Must 
all who approach me be the victims of a fatal spell ? Soli- 
tary, alone, invulnerable and accursed, I pass unharmed of 
mortal calamities and dangers. The hour ol soul rest has 
not yet sounded for me — will it ever ? What crime have I 
committed to merit this fearful penalty ? I know not. If 
my past history be stained with blood, it is the blood of 
honorable war. If I have been terrible in battle, fighting 
for the glory of my adopted country and honor of her flag, 
I have been generous and merciful in victory. Yes, my past 
life is that of a soldier,” continued Montbars, after a momen- 
tary pause, and my heart is not yet gentle. It was not the 
instinct of selfipreservation or defence against unjust aggres- 
sion that nerved my arm — it was the spirit of revenge. 
When I see a Spaniard fall at my feet, I feel a savage joy 
— I luxuriate in his agonies. The shrieks of my murdered 
brother, writhing under the lash inflicted by the slaves of 
Monterey, are ever ringing in my ears and they render me 
pitiless, remorseless. I know I should stifle these in my 
heart and that I should sacrifice them on the altar of Chris- 
tian forgiveness, but — I cannot — ^I cannot.” 

Montbars, returning to his nephew’s hammock, gazed upon 
him a few moments more, as he was tossing in his feverish 
sleep ; then went away adding, to himself, ‘‘ I was wrong to 


THE CONSULTATION. 473 

accuse myself. It is a warning from heaven — a chastisement 
•for my long delay in striking the guilty.” 

The coast line which separated the Grotto of the Antilles 
from the city of the Cape, commonly called by manners 
Cape Haytien, and the destination of Montbars, was about 
four hundred and fifty miles ; but with steady fair winds 
and a swift craft Montbars made the run in less than three 
days. This short space of time told fearfully upon Malcolm’s 
condition. The greatest precautions were necessary in 
landing him. 

At Cape Haytien Montbars had a villa, the envy and ad- 
miration of all the wealthy colonists. It was to that villa 
Malcolm was carried on a litter. As soon as the patient 
was installed m his chamber Montbars called in three of the 
most skillful surgeons the Cape contained. 

Many European surgeons had emigrated tp San Domingo 
to make their fortunes, where gold was plenty and freely 
spent. These practitioners were not long in their consul- 
tation with regard to the state of the patient. They all 
agreed, without an argument, upon prompt amputation; and 
even then they did not guarantee the life of the patient. 

In the opinion of Mcntbars this was a catastrophe — which 
doomed his nephew to inaction and rendered him incapable 
of pursuing the profession of arms in a service whose con- 
stituent element was danger and activity — more terrible 
than death itself 

“ Gentlemen,” said Montbars, to this board of surgeons 
assembled in his saloon, ‘‘ the wounded man, whom you 
have just seen, is the blood of my blood — my son by adop- 
tion. Ponder well ere you decide. To save him there is 
no sacrifice which I would hesitate one second to make. 
That man, one, all, or each of you, who could save him with- 
out that horrible mutilation — which you seem to think indis- 
pensable — could put his hands into my pocket and help him- 
self to my entire fortune. I repeat then, ponder well upon 
the course you adopt.” 


474 


THE B UGGANEERS. 


The fortune of Montbars was enormous, and his gener- 
osity too well known to the surgeons to have permitted 
them to leave any means untried which the light of medical 
science afforded, to save Malcolm from mutilation. 

They reiterated their former opinion. “ And we will 
add, Montbars,” said the spokesman of the board, “ that 
there is not one moment to lose. To-morrow this opera- 
tion — even now precarious — will be impracticable. One 
hour’s delay sometimes renders science helpless and im- 
potent.” 

‘‘ Well, gentlemen,” said Montbars, with the forged com- 
posure of calm despair, “ since amputation is decided upon, 
the quicker done the better. Which one of you will apprise 
my nephew of this sad alternative ? ” 

All three simultaneously, with professional insensibility 
and eagerness, arose to reply. 

‘‘ Stay ! ” exclaimed bTativa, who had been a silent listener 
to the consultation; “ Ismail Malcolm is my brother — to me 
alone belongs the right to warn him of your decision.” 
The cheeks of ISTativa glowed and her eyes burned with a 
fixed and steady light. 

Montbars gazed at her uneasily. “ My good girl,” said 
he, affectionately, “ I fear the task is a little beyond your 
powers. For eight days and nights you have watched at 
his bedside. Let me entreat you not to expose yourself to 
the nervous reaction which this state of things must of ne- 
cessity produce. Leave to the surgeons the task of prepar- 
ing him for the operation.” 

“ N o, no — never,” was the prompt and energetic protest 
of Nativa. Sir Ismail loves me — I know it. Say me not 
nay, Montbars. I will see him alone.” 

But, Nativa, what do you expect to gain by that ?” said 
Montbars. 

“Does it never occur to you, Montbars,” said Nativa, in 
a whisper — struggling with indignation^ — “ does it never 
occur to you, I say, that if Sir Ismail should fear the 


THE CONSULTATION, 475 

operation lie should not exhibit his weakness before stran- 
gers ? ” 

This reply astonished Montbars. “ Singular being,” said 
he, after a short silence. ‘‘I never expected such delicacy 
from you. How did that idea, so consonant with the preju- 
dices of the world, strike you ? ” 

“ I know not what you call prejudices, Montbars,” said 
Hativa, firmly; “ I love the brave — ^that is all. Let me en- 
treat you to give me credit for what little wit I have. Since 
I have known Sir Ismail, I am no longer the ignorant Buc- 
caneer girl of the forest I used to be. Now I refiect, I ob- 
serve in silence. Formerly, when my brain conceived an 
idea, my lips uttered it. Now I have secrets. I speak only 
when it is necessary. Fear nothing, Montbars — trust me, 
and let me forewarn the patient of the surgeons' decision.” 

“ May God inspire you, my good girl,” said Montbars, 
with a lively emotion. “ Yes, you are right; ’tis better for 
him to learn from your lips his desolate condition. ' Go, 
and we will wait here. None shall interrupt your inter- 
view.” 

‘‘ God will inspire me,” said Nativa, as she withdrew. 

When she entered Malcolm’s chamber, he was sleeping. 
She bent over the bed and gazed, with clasped hands, upon 
the sleeper. “ How beautiful he is ! ” she murmured, with 
passionate emphasis. “ Now that his features are contracted 
with agony, pale, shrunken from fever and fasting, I am 
sure that if Isabel Sandoval saw him thus suffering and 
prostrate, she would not admire him as I do ; because she is 
one of those fine ladies of the city who can only see the 
palpable beauties of the flesh. Yes, it is so. But I see in 
those noble lineaments the beautiful soul of my Ismail. But 
time flies, and work must be done.” Nativa pressed her 
hand upon her heart to still its convulsive th robbings ; then 
in a tone like the notes of an ^olian harp, she murmured, 

“ Sir Ismail. It is I — Nativa.” 

As low and tremulous as these words were uttered. 


476 


TEE BVUCANEERS. 


Malcolm opened his eyes and smiled. “ I have been dream- 
ing of you, my sister,” he said. 

Nativa felt the tears gathering in her eyes, but with a 
firmness of which few of her sex are capable, she checked 
an impulse which would have culminated in an agony of 
grief. “ My Ismail,” said she, seating herself upon the bed) 
“ I come to bring you bad news ; to accuse myself of hav- 
ing deceived you.” 

“ Explain, ISTativa,” said he. 

“ Yes, I have deceived you,” said ^^ativa, gathering firm- 
ness as she proceeded ; I have done very wrong. Since 
the wreck of the fidgate you have ever seen me smiling. 
E" ot one word of the sad truth ever passed my lips. W ell, 
I had despaired in my heart — while you slept, I wept. N ow 
you must learn all.” 

“ My gentle Nativa,” said Malcolm, with a sad smile, “ I 
am not one of those spoiled children of fortune who regard 
disappointments and dispensations as calamities. My life 
has been too well tried to permit grief to annihilate my 
courage, hope, or resignation. I have learned to suffer pa- 
tiently. What is this sad intelligence you hesitate to give ? ” 

“ It concerns your wound,” said she. 

Malcolm smiled. “ I know that it is mortal,” said he. 

“And you never told me,” said Nativa. No longer able 
to contain herself, she burst into a paroxysm of sobs and 
tears. 

“ Why distress yourself, poor girl ? ” said Malcolm. “ I 
was only reserving my last breath and last words for you. 
W eep no more ; your tears fall like molten lead upon ray 
heart. Nativa, I implore you, weep no more.” 

“ We have deceived each other,” sobbed Nativa. 

“ Because we loved each other, and feared to give pain to- 
one we love,” replied Malcolm. “ So the surgeons have con- 
demned me to die ; is it not so ? How many days number 
my life ? What day and what hour must I go hence ? ” 

“ No, my Ismail, the surgeons do not despair of your life. 
Only if you knew ” 


THE CONSULTATION. 


All 


“ The sacrifice they require of me?” quickly interpolated' 
Malcolm; “ the expediency of which I doubt, and to which 
I refuse to submit. Is it not enough that my heart be dead 
to all bright hopes and brighter aspirations of my youth, 
without my body being riveted to the earth like a galley 
slave to his oar, to complete my premature decrepitude ? I 
am too much of a Christian to contemplate suicide, but I 
have a right to prefer death to the uncertain success of a 
horrible operation.” 

While Malcolm was speaking Nativa sank into a deep 
meditation, and appeared neither to hear nor understand the 
words spoken. My Ismail,” she suddenly eixclaimed, like 
one awakening from a reverie, and wiping the tears from her 
eyes, “ will you swear on your honor that you will not 
change your resolve, and that while I am gone you will turn 
a deaf ear to the prayers and entreaties of Montbars and the 
surgeons ? ” 

“ Most willingly,” said Malcolm ; “ but why this sudden 
change ? ” 

“ Time is too precious for words. All I can say — resist 
Montbars and the surgeons. I cannot express how happy 
your words have made me. Adieu, till we meet again. I 
will soon be back.” And then, with a light foot and bright 
smile, she left the chamber. 


478 


TEE BUCCANBEBS. 


I 


CHAPTEK LIL 

THE AGOHY. 

It was midnight. A dark cloud, luminous with electricity, 
hung over the Cape. The evening sea breeze had failed to 
make its refreshing visit. 

Montbars, reclining upon a sofa had fallen into a doze while 
on his sick watch in Malcolm’s chamber, when a terrific 
peal of thunder reverberated through space overhead, like 
a discharge of artillery, and brought him to his feet. “ How 
are you now, Ismail ? ” said he. 

“ I am very well,” replied Malcolm, with an incoherent, 
unnatural tone and rolling eye which denoted the increasing 
of a delirious fever. “I desire but one thing — that you 
take a little rest. During these four days Nativa has been 
gone, you have never quit my bedside. I know you must 
need rest.” 

“ You forget, child,” replied Montbars, “that my body is 
invulnerable to injury and insensible to fatigue. But it is 
not so with my heart. Why is not that also invulnerable ? 
Truly, Ismail,” said Montbars, “ your 'obstinacy in refusing 
to submit to the operation — or rather, I fear, to understand 
it — the sturdy obstinacy with which you reject the only 
means of saving your life, is, to say the least, unnatural. I 
know you to be too brave to mean v/hat you say — that you 
fear the operation, that you are disgusted with life and wish 
to die.” 

“ When will that be ? ” exclaimed Malcolm, with a glow 
of animation. “Have I not paid tribute enough to human 
suffering to deserve to sleep the eternal sleep of death? 
What woe have I not tasted ? I have drained the dregs of 
human misery. Perfidy'^ most infamous rewarded my most 


THE AGONY. 


479 


loyal, trusting devotion. One man clasped my hand in 
friendship — ^he has now become my rival in love.” 

“And Nativa?” suggested Montbars, hoping to give a 
pleasing digression to the sufferer’s train of ideas. 

“ Nativa has been to me a ray from the sun, only to make 
the darkness of life’s sunset the more hideous. Blessed be 
her absence — she was the sole tie that bound me to life. I 
feared that the agony of our separation would be too much 
for her ; but fool that I was to have been the puppet, the 
victim, of all hypocrisies and die worshiping a delusion. 
Nativa attached herself to me because she was blase with 
solitude — she was bored with herself, that is all. But the 
instant my foot is about to cross the threshold of eternity^ 
she leaves me unceremoniously without casting a look behind 
her, — she has gone — to join — Laurent.” 

In spite of the blasting irony with which Malcolm uttered 
these words, Montbars could readily see, by the quivering 
lip, that the young man was only giving vent to the agoniz- 
ing bitterness of his soul. 

“ My poor boy,” said Montbars, “ do not blaspheme thus. 
I admit that the absence of Nativa, at this time, is truly ex- 
traordinary. Some unforeseen accident has happened, some 
evil has befallen her. You know how low I rate humanity, 
but Nativa is to me the only unalloyed embodiment of 
purity and devotion. I have ever met rare faith in her. I 
I would sooner doubt your courage, than suspect her virtue. 
I can conceive, that under the delirium of fever, your judg- 
ment has become perverted and you are unjust. Ungrate- 
ful boy, did you not a moment ago, in speaking of your iso- 
lated life, say that one man had clasped your hand in friend- 
ship, and that was Laurent? I — who have felt for you the 
affection of a father — have I no abiding place in your 
memory ? ” 

“ It is possible that some stronger power or necessity de- 
tains ISTativa from me,” said Malcolm. “But as to your 
affection, Montbars,” he added, with a ghastly smile, “ I cannot 


480 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


aid you in deceiving yourself. I do not believe it — bear 
with my frankness. My soul is so near the presence of -its 
Creator that I feel its inspiration as the flickering lamp casts 
its last, most brilliant flame ere it dies. Montbars, I re- 
proach you not. You have said what you believe you feel. 
But your heart has deceived you.'’ 

“ A moment ago you were blaspheming,” said Montbars, 
“now you are raving, to say I do not love you.” 

“ No, Montbars. That my resemblance to my father may 
have awakened in you fond and tender reminiscences of youth 
and childhood is very probable — I believe it to be so, but 
that is all. You have mistaken this transient emotion of 
natural affection for a settled principle of action. None can 
tread your fiery path unscathed. You have given yourself, 
soul and body, to ambition. It has seared your brow and 
withered your heart. To-day you fancy that you are laying 
the foundation of an empire. It is a delusion. You are 
only sowing the dragon’s teeth to gather a harvest of glory 
for — Montbars. In me you regret not the death of your 
brother’s son — but the successor of Montbars.” 

This reply, from the lips of a dying man, sank deep into 
the heart of the old Buccaneer. For some time he mused 
in silence; then, as if recalling the words he had heard, 
started from his reverie, saying, “Ismail, may God grant 
that you deceive yourself; but I fear your words are pro- 
phetic.” 

An hour passed in gloomy silence, broken only by peals 
"of thunder. 

The fever of Malcolm becoming more and more violent, 
he struggled with all his mental powers against the super- 
vening delirium ; his roving eye continually sought the door 
of his chamber ; a convulsive shudder passed over his frame ; 
his head fell heavily upon his pillow ; he sought in vain the 
insensibility of sleep. 

“ Montbars,” he gasped, “ air — air — I am suffocating.” 

The old Buccaneer threw open the high and broad win- 


THE AGONY, 481 

dows which opened on a level with the garden terrace. The 
air was calm, heavy and stilling. 

“Be patient a little while longer, my poor boy. The 
storm which is -now passing over the island is only a con- 
tinuation of the hurricane you encountered at sea in the 
frigate ; it will soon burst ; the rain will bring with it re- 
freshing coolness.” 

“ Raise me a little, and turn my head to the window,” 
said Malcolm, ‘‘I wish to breathe the first cooling breath 
that passes.” 

Montbars, upon raising his nephew in his arms, could not 
suppress a sigh — so terrible was the change in four days. 
The surgeons, in consultation that morning, had declared 
that nothing but a miraculous inter]3osition of Providence 
could save him, and as to the operation, even supposing that 
Malcolm would consent to it, it would now, in the advanced 
stage of gangrene, be a useless cruelty. The prediction of 
Montbars in regard to the storm was speedily verified. 
Fearful detonations of electricity pealed through the air, 
with all of their dread and terrific power, compared with 
which the most terrible storms of continental Europe are 
faint, and can give no approximate idea. One might have 
said that nature, in the throes of some geologic dissolution, 
was returning to chaos. At the same instant one of those 
torrental rain deluges of the tropics, which batter down, 
with all the resistless fury of a catoclysm, the centenarian 
giants of the forest Uke blades of grass, mingling the roar 
of falling trees with crashing thunder, completed the awful 
horrors of the scene. 

Must we not believe in omens, Montbars ? ” said Mal- 
colm, revived by the refreshing coolness of the air. “ The 
first time Isabel Sandoval appeared to me, it was, as you re- 
member, at cape Henry. In the tempest I saw her by the 
lightning’s flash — on the wings of the storm. Then, as now, 
the heavens, seas and earth were in commotion. Why was 
I so heedless of the dread voice of the storm ? It is only 


482 


TEE BUCCANEERS. 


in the holy light of the altar, or in the chaste light of the 
stars which shine in heaven, that man should vow his love. 
The lightning is but a glance from the eye of an offended 
God — a dread seer of wrath to come.'’ 

At these words, which, without denoting a complete de- 
lirium, betrayed great mental prostration, the old Buccaneer 
bit his lips to the quick, with the thought of his own weak- 
ness. The strong man now despaired ; he felt that the death 
agony of his doomed nephew was at hand. “You will feel 
better, my poor boy,” said he, in a husky voice. “ Instead 
of giving loose reins to your imagination, do try and get 
some sleep. One hour’s sleep will be a Godsend. Drink 
this anodyne ordered by the surgeons.” 

Montbars, supporting his nephew with one arm, was pre- 
senting to his lips the cup, when Malcolm, with a yell, raised 
himself erect in his bed with what seemed to be the last 
spasmodic exertion of physical power. “ Poor boy ! ” ex- 
claimed Montbars, “ he is in his last agony.” 

But the old Buccaneer was mistaken. The face of Mal- 
colm and his eyes sparkled with joy; he appeared trans- 
figured and transported by ecstasy beyond the bounds of 
mortality — it was the delirium of happiness, not of fever. 
“ Montbars,” he exclaimed, in a thrilling, exultant shout, ex- 
tending his hands toward the open window, “ you were 
right. I was blaspheming. Behold her.” 

Montbars turned and saw, but v.^as too much startled to 
say what he saw. 

There was Nativa standing by the open window. In the 
incessant flashes of lightning, flickering and flaming around 
and above her in multitudinous forms, Nativa appeared the 
creation of fancy or magic, with her magnificent mass of 
liair floating in the wind, her cheeks glowing with exercise, 
her white muslin dress, saturated by the rain and clinging to 

her form, thus exhibiting its beautifully developed outlines 

a sylph of Ossian descending in a chariot of fire from a 
storm cloud. 


THE AGONY, 


483 


My Ismail,” she exclaimed, springing with the bound of 
an antelope to Malcolm’s bedside, “ you have been scolding 
me, perhaps ; but you will blame me not when you learn how 
I have hurried to get back m, time. Oh, how you have 
changed ! But no matter ; I will save you.” 

The emotions of Malcolm were such that he could not ar- 
ticulate a word ; he could only express his welcome in the 
“ language of the eyes.” 

“ Nativa,” said he, at length, “ I have long looked for you 
and have prayed to die in your presence, and now that my 
eyes behold you, I am ready to join my father in heaven.” 

“ You die !” exclaimed Nativa, with a smile; “not yet. 
Do you think that if your life had not been at stake I would 
have left you four long days ? But now I say I will save 
you.” 

“ Montbars,” continued she, turning to the old Buccaneer, 
“ call up your servants. Let them make a hot fire ; I must 
have some boiling water instantly — hurry, hurry. 

“ My Ismail,” she continued, taking the jfiace vacated by 
Montbars, “it is necessary that I reassure you. You hear 
me, do you not ? ” 

“ Since you are at my side, Nativa, my strength seems to 
have returned. I breathe freely ; no- cloud now darkens my 
sight. Speak — every word of yours is precious to me. One 
half-hour of joy like this, and I have lived long enough.” - 

“ My Ismail,” resumed Nativa, “I come from Salines on 
the river Massacre. Do not interrupt me — I am so eager 
for you to share my joy. The valley of the Massacre is in 
Spanish territory. Yes, I know that I might have fallen 
into their hands and that they would have killed me. Do 
not scold. Your life was at stake. There lives near Salines 
an old Spanish woman, to whom I rendered a great service 
a year ago — I saved her son from being shot. I will tell 
you all about that by-and-by. Well, this old Spanish 
woman, from her thorough knowledge of medicinal plants, 
performs wonderful cures every day. They say she can cure 


484 


THE BUCCANEERS, 


any wound, if the heart be uninjured ; and it is true, my 
Ismail. I went to her, her son recognized me, she embraced 
me v.dth tears in her eyes. I explained to her your condi- 
tion, giving a description of all the symptoms. ‘ My poor 
child,’ said she, listening to me attentively, ‘ is he not a Buc- 
caneer ? If so, his cure through my agency xoould peril the 
salvation of my soul. The Buccaneers sleio my husband, 
and he onust die.'' In vain I clasped her knees. She was 
inexorable. At last, in the agony of my desj^air, I cried, 
‘ Woman, in refusing to save my brother you assassinate me. 
lam Nativa del Hoco — the Holy Virgin hears my prayers. 
I have saved your son — you refuse to save my brother. 
Anathema be on you and yours.’ These words terrified the 
Spanish woman. With trembling lips she said, ‘ I knew not 
it was for your brother. Revoke your anathema. I will do 
as you desire.’ You can imagine my joy when she put into 
my hands the infallible herbs. Without the loss of a mo- 
ment, a second, I started back, and here I am.” 

As Rativa uttered these last words, Montbars entered. 
“Your orders have been executed, Nativa,” said he. 

“ Take this handful of herbs and pour over them one pint 
of boiling water,” said Nativa. 

Montbars hastened to obey her directions. He felt in- 
stinctively that the crisis of the case was at hand. 

“ Nativa,” said Malcolm, with tears of gratitude filling 
his eyes, “ I would not shake your faith by my doubts, but 
believe me, do not confide too implicitly in the skill of that 
old Spanish woman. In the first instance, she may have 
deceived you ; and then, whatever be the virtue of those 
plants, my case is a desperate one, — rather train your mind 
to the idea of separation than convalescence.” 

“ As to separation,” murmured Nativa, inaudibly, “I fear 
not that. The old Spanish Avoman is an expert in poisons — • 
and she has given me one Avhich is infallible.” 


THE FLIGHT. 


485 


CHAPTEK LIII. 

THE FLIGHT. 

When’ Montbars entered the room, followed by a slave 
carrying a cup filled with the infusion directed by Nativa, 
he found the Buccaneeress and his nephew engaged in a 
lively conversation. 

The imagination performing such an important part in 
therapeutics by diverting the senses from the acuteness of 
corporal suffering, Malcolm had, since the return of N ativa, 
become a new man. The roseate hue of life was restored 
to his cheeks, the fever had subsided ; his eyes, but a moment 
ago rolling in agony, now glowed with a mild and serene 
light. That miracle, of which the surgeons were so skep- 
tical, was now partially performed, and there was a prospect 
of recovery. 

IsTevertheless Montbars resolved to abide the issue rather 
than anticipate recovery. He thoroughly understood the 
morale of ISTativa’s return with all its happy effects, but this 
was offset by the grave character of the wound — the fright- 
ful progress of the gangrene — so that the old Buccaneer 
could not yet believe in a radical cure in so short a time. 

Nativa eagerly took the cup containing the infusion and 
presented it to the lips of the patient ; but as his lips were 
about' to touch it, she uttered a shriek and drew back the 
cup. “ My Ismail, let me ascertain if this infusion has been 
properly made,” and without waiting for a reply, as if fear- 
ing opposition, she put the cup to her lips and drank a- third 
of its contents. “ It is hot, it must cool a little,” said she. 

‘‘Nativa,” said Montbars, who had observed her closely, 
“ I do not understand you. If you have such implicit faith 
in the infallibility of the Spanish woman’s panacea, why 


486 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


do you delay its application under such a frivolous pre- 
text ? ’’ 

“ The infusion has more virtue cold than hot,” saidlN’ativa, 
coloring with embarrassment. 

Montbars shook his skeptical head and said nothing. 

Pending the quarter of an hour which followed this IHtle 
scene, apparently so insignificant, Nativa appeared abstracted 
and preoccupied. Many times Montbars observed her shud- 
der and turn pale. Presently a smile of heavenly rapture 
seemed to idealize the face of the Buccaneeress, as she pre- 
sented the cup to the lips of the patient, saying, “ Now, my 
Ismail, you can drink without fear ; there is no longer any 
danger.” 

“ What mean those words, ‘ there is no longer any dan- 
ger'' ? ” said Montbars, keenly searching her face as Malcolm 
drained the cup. 

“ Oh, how troublesome you are with your questions,” said 
Nativa, with a petulant, mutinous air. “ You well know 
that I often speak without reflection.” 

“I know also, Nativa,” said Montbars, sharply, “ how 
awkwardly you perform a false part.” 

Nativa colored, hung her head and was silent. 

“ What is the matter ? ” said Malcolm, observing her em- 
barrassment. 

“ The matter is,” replied Montbars, dryly, “ that she has 
just been trying an experiment of life and death on her own 
body for your benefit.” 

“Tampering with your life for me, Nativa!” exclaimed 
the astonished Malcolm. “ Explain this enigma.” 

“ Mon Dieu, what a useless array of words over so simple 
a thing ! ” exclaimed she, incapable of parrying the direct 
question. “ As you insist upon it, I must tell you. In my 
hurry and precipitation to get back again with the means 
of snatching you from the jaws of death, I mixed the herbs 
which the old Spanish woman gave me. One of them is the 
deadly poison, of which I have spoken. You may imagine 


THE FLIGHT. 


487 


that after committing such a blunder I, if any one, should 
suffer for it. Hence I tested experimentally the infusion 
before I permitted you to drink it. It is naughty in you to 
wring this confession from me before him ; he will never 
have confidence in me again. If another time, Montbars, 
you fathom my good intentions, do not betray them; it is 
not gallant in you to mortify a woman.” 

While Hativa was excusing what she called her blunder, 
Malcolm gazed upon her with emotions indescribable ; tears 
of admiration and gratitude gathered in his eyes and blinded 
him. Hativa,” he exclaimed when he found words for ut- 
terance, “ before God, who hears me, I swear ” 

“ Swear no more, my Ismail,” ejaculated Hativa, spring- 
ing to her feet, pale and trembling, and extending her hands 
as if to stop the flow of words from his lips. “ I would 
that you live an honest man. Remember your oath to 
Isabel Sandoval, my brother.” 

Alas, Hativa, it is too true,” said Malcolm, with a deep- 
drawn sigh. His head sank heavily upon his pillow. He 
had fainted. 

For one week Hativa never left the bedside of Malcolm, 
regardless of Montbars’ entreating her to snatch a few mo- 
ments of sleep. Hay by day the health of the patient im- 
proved. The infusions and applications of the panacea 
given by the old Spanish woman acted like a charm. The 
surgeons were more and more perplexed at this astonishing 
cure. The week passed ; they pronounced Malcolm out of 
danger, but predicted a long convalescence. 

Two weeks glided by. The last days of December, 1689, 
were approaching when Malcolm, accompanied by Hativa, 
made his first outdoor promenade. 

“Hativa,” said he, “how shall I ever repay you the debt 
I owe to you ? This is the second time you have saved my 
life ; and, wretch that I am, I have not even the poor priv- 
ilege of offering you my name and to consecrate my life to 
your happiness ; my future is not even my own.” 


488 


TEE BUGGANEERS. 


“ My Ismail, I have reflected often and often upon our 
unique position, and truly I find nothing in it that should 
trouble us.” 

“ What, Nativa, not that fatal oath which binds me to 
another ? ” 

“ Why vex yourself about that oath ? It simply binds you 
to marry Isabel Sandoval or none. W ell, I have never yet 
understood the utility of that pompous ceremonial you call 
the sacrament of marriage. Why do people marry — simply 
to live together under the same roof and share each other’s 
goods and chattels ? Can we not still love each other and 
live together under the same roof? Truly Isabel Sandoval 
has overreached herself when she thought she had raised 
such an obstacle to our happiness. Are we not as haj)py as 
we can be ? What more can we desire ? There were times 
when I used to grieve over that oath, but now, since I have 
reflected upon it, I laugh at my credulity. Follow my 
example.” 

Malcolm was silent ; he felt that it would be sacrilege to 
tear away the chaste veil of ignorance from her eyes. He 
could not help sighing deeply. 

The days of the Christmas carnival glided by, with Mal- 
colm’s complete restoration to health. Hativa, persistently 
believing that she was necessary to him, would not leave 
him. Malcolm became more sad and sighed oftener. There 
came moments when he felt himself yielding to the passion 
that was consuming him. He would often abruptly leave her 
in tears ; and his wayward conduct she could not compre- 
hend. 

• 

Cape Haytien, subsequently the most wealthy and luxuri- 
ous city of San Domingo, was even at this time the residence 
of many wealthy settlers of France, who formed a very 
select and still increasing society of the haute noblesse of 
colonial life. It was to enjoy the society of this very select 
clique which, though separated from Europe by the vast ex- 
panse of the ocean none the less preserved all its tradition- 


THE FLIGHT. 


489 


ary courtly graces and amenities, that Montbars had chosen 
the Cape for his residence. The old Buccaneer found in 
this agreeable society, so different from his fierce and rude 
companions in arms, a relaxation peculiarly soothing and 
grateful to one of his refined taste. Besides, from the cor- 
respondence which these noble emigrants kept up with their 
relatives in France, he was able to gather valuable informa- 
tion upon the passing events in Europe and the on dits 
of European courts. 

But these transatlantic scions of nobility were in general 
pleasure seekers, rather than gold diggers; and ISTativa had 
created quite a furore among them. Dazzled by her singular 
beauty, they all sought by every available means to attract 
her attention. ISTone of them knew or could know the 
depth and purity of her heart ; none doubted his individual 
power to win her. The presence of Malcolm, who ever ac- 
companied her, thus far had presented an obstacle to any 
approaches or demonstrations beyond silent admiration. N a- 
tiva herself was ignorant of the power she wielded in a society 
she had never entered — among admirers she never knew. 

One day Malcolm, to hide his grief which at times would 
overcome him, abruptly left her in a promenade, and FTativa 
was soon accosted by one of her numerous and hitherto un- 
known worshipers. He was a young man of twenty-five 
years, prepossessing in appearance, ready wit, with a large 
instalment of assurance and presumption. 

Nativa, startled by a style of conversation heard for the 
first time, did not understand the pointed compliments ad- 
dressed to her. She replied in monosyllables and was about 
to leave when he detained her with a gentle force. “ Come, 
my beautiful,” said he, in a tone of mingled sarcasm and 
raillery, “ less ferocity ; prudery is an incompatible element 
in your case. We all know too well that Sir Ismail Mal- 
colm is your lover.” 

“That is true,” said FTativa, with frank naivete, “and I 
am very happy.” 


190 


THE BUGGAEEER8. 


This reply, which the Buccaneeress intended as a coup de 
gracCj had quite the contrary effect upon the person to 
whom it was addressed. “ Then, dear girl,” said he, “ let us 
have a little game of cards. I have an income of one hun- 
dred thousand a year; would you assist me in spending 
that sum ? Malcolm is poor, very poor, and of course must 
treat you shabbily.” 

The proposition to assist him in spending his income, 
coupled with Malcolm’s poverty and shabby treatment of 
herself, appeared to Nativa so very ridiculous, construing 
it as she did, literally, that she indulged in a hearty, ringing 
laugh, believing that she was dealing with a simpleton. 

“Ah ! I perceive — that I could not be mistaken,” said he ; 
“ cruel beauty’s heart softens and relents at the sweet music 
of gold. You accept of course. It is a bargain; and now 
candidly, you not only consult your own interest but even 
his in quitting him. You cannot imagine how ridiculous 
your connection with him makes you both appear in the 
eyes of the haul to7i of the Cape. He makes you notori- 
ous by an affectation of fraternal Platonism too transparent 
to deceive any one but himself or conceal his parsimony. 
ISTone of us play with him; we despise him.” 

From this string of rambling words Hativa gathered but 
one fact — that her domiciliation in the house of Montbars 
and her companionship with his nephew had been prejudicial 
to Malcolm, — and then the true cause of his moodiness 
and wayward actions flashed upon her ; and with it there 
came a pang of anguish that for a moment checked the pul- 
sations of her heart and suspended her breath. With 
womanly instinct she suppressed an untimely burst of agony 
in the presence of the stranger and with quivering lips she 
murmured, “ Oh ! my Ismail, how imprudent and thought- 
less I have been. How patiently and forbearingly you have 
borne my presence, when with restored health, the society 
of a simple girl like me was prejudicial to your reputation 
and to hers. Why did I not see that society of the outside 


ATI BEVOIE, 


491 


world has its unalterable laws of propriety which cannot he 
violated with impunity ; that, with it, the appearance of 
crime brings the punishment of crime ? My innocence is 
my folly, my devotion your shame. But I will call to my 
aid another power more potent than love. If I have a girl’s 
folly, I have a woman’s pride — to suffer- — to make one long- 
self-denying sacrifice. I may sink under it — let it be so. 
One thing is certain, you shall be relieved of my presence.” 

With the bound of a deer she fled from the spot, leaving 
the young man in silent amazement. In a few seconds she 
was in her chamber — the sanctum, fortress and confessional 
of a womai}. Long she wept and longer prayed. When 
she arose from that long prayer her face was calm. She 
smiled as she gathered the folds of her mantilla over her 
face — and then fled from the house of Montbars, 


CHAPTER LIV. 

AU REVOIR. 

At nightfall Malcolm, alarmed by the prolonged absence 
of Hativa, set out in search of her. He ransacked every 
park, boulevard and grove in and around the city, where 
they usually promenaded. In vain he interrogated slaves 
and promenaders. One reflection consoled him, that while he 
sought her she had probably taken another route and gone 
home. He retraced his steps. In passing the port jetty he 
mechanically cast his eyes seaward. A coasting vessel of 
the class called “ luggers,” was just making sail. On her 
quarter deck stood a white form, indistinct in the gathering 
gloom of twilight. He stood as if rooted to the spot. A 
presentiment flashed upon him ; as it flashed his spirit told 
him that it was prophetic. “Hativa! ” he shouted with all 
the power of his lungs. Nativa, my sister, is that you ? ” 


492 


THE BUGGANEEMS, 


A second passed — there was no reply. He was about to 
hail again, when the words, “ Adieu forever — we meet no 
more,” borne by the sea breeze, fell on his ears. 

It was the voice of ll^ativa — all doubt was now at an end. 
Hativa had fled. At the same instant the sails fllled and 
tlie lugger, with a gentle careen to the leeward, like a flying 
cloud moved away over the face of the deep. Malcolm ran 
along the beach in search of a boat, but finding none for a 
moment contemplated the folly of throwing himself into 
the waves. In despairing silence he stood upon the sands 
watching the receding sails of the lugger until they were 
lost in darkness ; and then slowly returned to the house of 
Montbars. 

“ This last drop fills my cup — this last act of treason dis- 
arms all others of their sting — my bleeding heart can bleed 
no more,” said he, in the calmness of despair. “ Laurent 
was right — ^to love and believe in woman is simply to play 
the fool and be the dupe of your own dreams. What a 
simpleton I have been up to this time — to pour out my 
heart’s blood upon sand ? Is Laurent a superior spirit ? 
What men call happiness on earth is only a delusion. The 
wise reject sensibility as a weakness — they seize the pleas- 
ures of the present — they leave the burdens of the future 
to themselves. Nativa to betray me, thus ! Am I in my 
senses or simply dreaming ? The many and vast delusions 
of hope are dreams. The thorns of life and the pangs of 
death are realities.” 

Montbars, who had been waiting supper for his nephew, 
could not suppress an exclamation of surprise upon seeing 
him. “ What has happened ? ” said be, eagerly. “ You look 
pale and haggard, like one chased by the furies after com- 
mitting some. great crime or suffering some great affliction.” 
* “You are mistaken, sir; I am suffering from neither crime 
or affliction, and since I left you nothing extraordinary has 
happened to me.” 

“ Where then is ^N’ativa ? ” inquired Montbars. 


A U REVOm. 


493 


“I believe she has left,” said Malcolm, affecting an indif- 
ference which his quivering lips and faltering voice belied. 
“ I presume,” he continued, “ she saw the propriety or felt 
the necessity of going home to her father after her duties as 
nurse were ended, and glad to be relieved — or probably may 
have gone to join Laurent.” 

“ Likely,” was the cool and unconsoling reply of Mont- 
bars. 

Malcolm, in throwing out these insinuations against iSTa- 
tiva, had hoped that the old veteran would defend her; 
his nonchalant and equivocal assent enraged and stung the 
lover. 

ISTativa join Laurent indeed ! ” exclaimed he, with vehe- 
ment indignation. “ The bare idea is an infamous slander, 
an arrant falsehood. It would be better to say that the 
dove would mate with the kite, the gazelle with the tiger. 
Nativa, Montbars, is an angel of devotion, candor and 
purity. You have never appreciated the beautiful soul that 
dwells in that beautiful temple. Nothing in humanity can 
be compared with her. To speak of her as an ordinary 
being is sacrilege.” 

“Poor Ismail, you must be either unfortunate or .unhap- 
py,” was the cool reply of Montbars, with a bitter smile. 
“ But come, boy, cheer up. I can conceive, though I have 
never experienced the agonies you feel. Nativa, I am sure, 
is worthy of your love. Why she has left I know not ; it 
imports but little. But the fact is, between your future and 
you, there should not exist an unmanly passion to stay your 
career, to enervate your manhood. Never would I have 
driven Nativa away — you owe her your life — but I have 
seen her presence here with pain. I consider her departure 
a happy event for you. Man — in the bright morning of 
your life — I tell you that love is the suicide of intelligence. 
In a few years, despoiled of the innocent naivete which 
lends such a charm to her girlhood, of angelic beauty, if you 
will have it so, she will become a mature won;an, vulgarized 


494 


THE BUCGAHEERS. 


by domestic duties ; that is to say, coarse and common 
place in her tastes and habits — an fait with the conventional 
ideas of every day life. Then you will awake from the 
slumber of your dream-life jaded and effete after having 
misspent, with the golden hours of the morn, that sacred 
fire of enthusiasm which alone makes men great. A spirit 
like yours can brave the direst calamities of mortality and 
arise victorious from the rudest trials ; but it cannot resist 
the insidious torpor which ever follows every passion, that 
cloys with repletion and dies of satiety. Ismail, I would 
not deceive you ; I love you too well to make you a mere 
tool of my own personal aggrandizement, though you have 
said it. You are my brother’s child — the sole tie that binds 
me to the world — and I will speak freely to you. Ismail, 
happiness cannot exist on earth until a man has created for 
himself an object to win, a goal to reach, a path to tread, a 
destiny to achieve, to shape, to guide — to inspire bis ener- 
gies. IST ot long ago you accused me of ruthless ambition ; 
-it stung me to the quick. Well, I admit I am ambitious; 
without the passion for glory and the excitement of the 
struggle it costs to win, what would this mortal life be to 
me ? A useless burden too grievous to be borne. Enter 
then into my views ; inspire your soul with the grandeur of 
my mission ; share my toils, my labors, my perils — then and 
then only will you know what it is to live.” 

Enthusiasm is ever contagious. Malcolm, inspired by the 
eloquence of Montbars, thought he saw the lowering clouds 
rolling away from the horizon of despair and a bright clear 
sky appear. His spirit accorded with that of the illustrious 
chief of the Buccaneers. “ Montbars,” said he, “ I yield to 
your superior knov\^ledge. I am ready to follow your ad- 
vice. What would you have me do ? ” 

“That you promise never to see Nativa again.” 

“ Hever see ISTativa again ! ” exclaimed Malcolm, indignant 
and amazed. “ You are too cruel, Montbars. Why not ask 
my life ? ” 


AU REVOIB, 


495 


The old veteran shrugged his shoulders with an air of pity 
and commiseration for the victim of such a delusion ; and 
then, after a short silence, continued, “ Your wound is deeper 
than I ever supposed. Terrible is the disease and fearful 
must be the remedy. See now how low love has brought 
your enervated manhood. You cannot even resent an insult.” 

“ I do not understand you — what do you mean ? ” 

‘‘I desire to know,” said Montbars, “if, with all the palpa- 
ble evidence of indifference, forgetfulness, neglect or disdain 
on the part of hTativa, you will still be her suitor ; in a word, 
if she does not come back to you, will you go to her ? An- 
swer me.” 

Malcolm hesitated. After taking counsel from his passion 
for Nativa and his own self-love, recalling the many incon- 
testible proofs of devotion from her, and feeling assured that 
she would soon return repentant, he replied, “I promise, 
Montbars, never to see ISTativa again — if of her own free will 
she avoids me ; and I will frankly add, without reservation 
or equivocation, if she does return and desire my affections 
they shall be restored four fold.” 

“That suffices, Ismail. Women are gifted with a happy 
faculty of changing their affections and a strong proclivity 
for novelties. Let Nativa meet a new acquaintance in her 
travels and she will never return.” 

Malcolm smiled his reply without an argument to the 
opinion of Montbars. His heart assured him that Montbars 
had prejudged the case, and that JSTativa’s speedy return 
would soon reverse his judgment. 

During the first few days which followed this conversation 
the face of Malcolm was calm and serene. Contrary winds, 
the long coast line from Cape Haytien to Roger grove, the 
delay in finding a coast lugger on the return voyage, suffi- 
ciently, as he thought, accounted for the detention of Hativa. 
Ten days of the new year 1690 passed, and no Hativa. Then 
Malcolm’s heart began to sink, his brow to darken ; he began 
to doubt. Sad, pensive and silent he passed day after day 


496 


TEE B UGGANEER8. 


on the beach, sweeping the expanse of the ocean as far as 
the eye could reach. At the sight of every sail that loomed 
upon the horizon, his heart would beat with hope. By de- 
grees, as the sail would approach, the black hull would arise 
out of the convex surface of the deep, dashing the foam from 
the bows, the hull would grow longer and larger, many dark 
forms could be seen upon the deck ; finally it would round 
to, cast anchor, down sail ; merry sailors or bold Buccaneers, 
with gleeful songs on their lips and rifles on their shoulders, 
would land — but no Nativa. Night would come on, the 
unhappy lover would slowly retrace his steps to the house 
of Montbars, in silence seat himself "at the sumptuous table 
spread for him, in silence eat his supper, and then, without a 
wmrd, withdraw to his chamber. 

Montbars, either from policy or delicacy, respected the 
grief of his nephew, and never uttered a word that had the 
remotest connection with Nativa. He seemed to expect and 
believe that this bootless passion would burn out for want 
of fuel. 

Early on the morning of the eleventh day, as the golden 
rays of the rising sun were gilding the horizon in the east, a 
loud knock at the door of his chamber aroused Malcolm 
from a sound morning nap into which he had fallen after 
tossing about all night. 

Grey Beard entered. 

At the sight of Nativa’s father Malcolm felt a mingled 
sensation of joy and pain. Ha feared to learn what brought 
him — was he also seeking Nativa? 

The old Buccaneer did not keep him long in suspense. 
“ Sir Ismail,” said Grey Beard, in that languid, uniform tone, 
like a man talking in his sleep, “ I come to tell you, that 
Nativa is dying; and if you wish to see her you have not a 
moment to lose.” 

Malcolm uttered a deep groan and sprang from his bed. 
“In mercy speak,” said he, seizing his arm. “ What has 
happened — what has been done ? ” 


A XT BEVOm. 


497 


“ Nothing has been done,” said Grey Beard, in the same 
unexcitahle tone. “ Nativa loves you — she has been driven 
away from you — ^it has broken her heart. She is ill — her 
illness increases every day — that is all.” 

It would be vain to describe the condicting emotions of 
Malcolm. The words of Grey Beard gave him delirious joy 
mingled with despair. 

“ Will you go to her ? ” said Grey Beard, in the same 
sleepy tone. 

“ Let us set out immediately,” exclaimed Malcolm, who 
having hastily thrown on his clothes was going bareheaded 
toward the door. 

Grey Beard stopped him. “ I am tired and hungry,” said 
he. “ I must rest and have breakfast before I start home ” 

The old Buccaneer, after a moment’s silence, laid his hand 
gently on the shoulder of the young man who was escorting 
him to the dining room : ‘‘ You love Nativa then ? ” said he 
without change of tone. 

“ Love her ! ” exclainied Malcolm, “ if ” and then he 

left unsaid the words he was about to utter, recollecting 
that he was speaking to Nativa’s father. 

“ Then if you love her,” continued the phlegmatic Grey 
Beard, “ why did you drive her away? You should have 
married her, and saved her a spell of sickness and me a long 
tramp.” 

The bluntness of Grey Beard took Malcolm at fault. 
For a moment he was tempted to believe himself the victim 
of a plot or joke. He knew not yet to what an extraordi- 
nary degree the rude and isolated life of the Buccaneers 
had effaced the traditionary graces of the polished life of 
European civilization — ^he knew not that the inexorable laws 
of etiquette and the amenities of civilization were regarded 
by those rude men as so many ridiculous and vexatious 
trammels. 

Grey Beard certainly felt for her, whom he called his 
daughter, a sincere affection; but, provided he saw the 


498 


THE BVaCANEEBS. 


bloom of health on her cheeks and the smile on her lips, 
that sufficed. Of her thoughts, desires, aspirations, he knew 
or could know nothing. She was well, therefore she was 
happy. 

Nativa, on her return, with instinctive modesty shrank 
from revealing to father Grey Beard her love for Malcolm ; 
and to all his inquiries respecting him she gave evasive and 
frivolous answers. 

Gourd Head had married, strange to tell, one of the most 
captivating and fashionable belles of Leogane, who it seems 
had sought out her Orsinas in Roger grove. Gourd Head’s 
wife was keen, shrewd and prying — and she soon fathomed 
Hativa’s secret and the source of her illness. She remarked 
to Grey Beard that if Sir Ismail Malcolm were there H ativa 
would be restored to health and happiness. 

This revelation from Madam Gourd Head was enough for 
Grey Beard. He cleaned his rifle, took a supply of powder 
and ball, embraced Hativa, called his dogs, and departed. 
As his darling was pining for her lover, what was a more 
simple process than to hunt him up and bring him back to 
her ? This idea was so natural and logical that he never 
gave it a second thought. Coasting vessels, being shy of 
Spanish cruisers, were not to be had every day, and Grey 
Beard, not finding one on his coast line (he had patented a 
square league of land, one side of which was bounded by 
the ocean) took, without further delay, the midland route. 
The distance from Roger grove to Ca2:)e Haytien was sixty 
leagues. He could not follow the coast line on account of 
the rapid and unfordable rivers rising in the interior of the 
island and emptying into the ocean. To turn the sources 
of these rivers he must cross the great savannah — the 
Sahara of San Domingo. The thought of the fatigues and 
dangers of this route did not deter him an instant. The 
old Buccaneer was, in his own estimation, an excellent and 
devoted father. 

Montbars, in spite of his extraordinary self-command, 


ATI REYOm, 


499 


could not control the chagrin and vexation which this un- 
expected visit caused him. Many times during breakfast he 
sought to dissuade his nephew from going to Roger grove. 
In vain he used irony, entreaties, appeals to personal pride 
and ambition. 

Majcolm was immovable. 

Grey Beard was too much occupied with his breakfast to 
take part in the conversation and never once attempted to 
rebut the argument of Montbars. When he arose from the 
table he calmly remarked to Malcolm, “ I am delighted, my 
young friend. You did not yield to Montbars. It spared 
me the trouble of blowing out your brains. Do you 
imagine,” he continued in the same tone, remarking Mal- 
colm’s startled expression, that I would have returned as 
I came ? By no means. I would have killed you' and then 
l^^ativa, no longer expecting to see you on earth, would in 
the course of time have found a new lover. But I greatly 
prefer to have you live, and Rativa will be made happy at 
once.” 

An hour later, as Malcolm was taking leave of Montbars, 
Jalman, ready equipped for traveling, presented himself. 
His face was radiant with joy. “ I shall drink some more 
of that cider and hunt with those dogs again,” said the 
Avorthy Celt. 

Before leaving Montbars presented his nephew with a 
richly mounted rifle and tenderly embraced him. “ Fare- 
well,” said he, “ till we meet again. I feel assured that you 
will soon return to me, — no denials. You will soon behold 
the future as I do. Soon, I say, you will return, serve under 
my orders and bear heart and hand in my projects. I speak 
with the certainty of inspiration. Good-bye, till we meet 
again. Till then, I would be alone.” 

Montbars,” replied Malcolm, “I leave you with 
your ambition.” 

“ My ambition and my vengeance,” said Montbars, turn- 
ing away. “ Sir Ismail, au revoir.’’^ 


500 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


CHAPTEE LY. 

THE SAVANNAH. 

The distance from Cape Haytien, across the savannah, to 
the ranche of Grey Beard was, as we have already stated, 
sixty leagues. This long journey presented to the bold and 
enterprising pedestrians, not only serious hardships but 
great dangers. The hardships, independent of the fatigu- 
ing march through a desert, were hunger and thirst ; the 
dangers were from patroling bands of Spanish lancers who 
gave no quarter. 

Malcolm was ignorant of all these particulars, but had he 
been aware of them they would in no wise have delayed 
him a second. Nativa was ill — what, to him the toilsome 
march, the pangs of hunger and thirst or the Spanish lan- 
cers ? As to Grey Beard, from the moment he had felt the 
necessity and taken the resolve to seek the man whose pres- 
ence, he thought, could save his daughter, he had with sullen 
indifference staked his life on the issue. If the affection of 
the old Buccaneer for his Nativa, as he called her, was 
deficient in the delicacy and refinement of mannerism, the 
paternal devotion, when the emergency arose, was energetic 
and thorough as ever nature planted in the human heart. 

Jalman, solely preoccupied with anticipated cider and 
dogs, recked not the dangers and privations he must endure 
to purchase that happy moment of fruition ; and then he 
was following his master — that was sufficient for him. 

At the end of the first day’s march the three travelers 
reached a place called “ Pleasant Valley,” where Grey Beard 
declared he would pass the night. “ Pleasant Valley ” was 
a delightful retreat, surrounded by high hiUs, through which 
flowed the head waters of a rapid river, and contained a 


THE SAVAHNAR 


501 


large settlement of colonists. Grey beard entered uncere-' 
moniously one of the largest cabins he could find. At this 
time hospitality to travelers and wayfarers in San Domingo, 
was considered a sacred duty. The host, whom chance had 
given to our wayfarers, was a refugee Englishman, who had 
translated his Enghsh name, John Kidd, into the vernacular 
French, Jean Ghevreau — an old settler of some twenty years 
who had accumulated a large fortune. 

Grey Beard seemed to be an old acquaintance and Chev- 
reau received his gruff visitor with open arms. 

Besides the prestige of former acquaintanceship, the “ set- 
tlers ” as the planter portion of the population of French 
San Domingo were called, felt a certain kind of awe, min- 
gled with admiration, for their compatriots, the Buccaneers, 
and treated them with the most lavish hospitality. They 
knew that those bold hunters — that hving wall between 
their fives, their wealth, and Spanish aggression — ^were vio- 
lent, implacable, and vindictive, that with them a slight or 
insult would never go unpunished, that a general conflagra- 
tion of their frontier settlements would be the least they 
could expect. 

Malcolm, in spite of the great anxiety he felt for Nativa, 
was induced, from his surroundings, to make inquiries of 
his host as to the antecedents of his establishment and the 
customs prevalent on these plantations so remote from the 
centre of authority. 

“ Now since the tide of emigration to the island has made 
good lands so valuable, an emigrant must apply to the 
governor for a patent,” replied the refugee, whom we shall 
call by his English name, John Kidd. “ With that exception 
nothing in manners or customs has been changed since my 
time — that is to say nearly twenty years ago. When two 
emigrants have money enough,” continued Kidd, “they 
form a partnership, the two members of the firm call one 
another ‘ comrades,’- like the Buccaneers ; then they draw 
up a contract under which they put in common stock all 


502 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


' they possess. If dming the term of partnership one of the 
firm dies the survivor falls heir to the whole stock in trade, 
to the prejudice of any European heir. 

‘‘ The contract signed, the contractors — I speak of present 
customs — demand a land warrant or patent, as it is called, 
from the governor, who sends an officer from head-quarters 
to lay off a section of land for them. This formality com- 
phed with, the partners cut down all the forest trees on 
their claim and let them wilt in the sun until dry enough to 
burn. In six weeks they fire the dead wood and this re- 
lieves them of any further trouble in clearing the land, and 
puts them in possession of a field ready for cultivation. 
They first sow this field with peas to root out turf grass ; 
then follows the cassava, banana and fig trees — these serve 
as food during the first year of the settlement. Having 
secured the staff of life, the next care is to build a house in 
place of the temporary shelter hastily thrown up on their 
arrival. 

•‘The construction of these houses is very simple and 
primitive. They cut in the shape of crotches the trunks of 
four or five trees twenty feet high, which they plant in the 
soil, in a straight line ; in the fork of these crotches they 
put a long pole, which they call the ridge pole ; on each 
side of this central line they plant another row of shorter 
crotches, topped with ridge poles ; the rafters are loinned 
to the ridge poles and sheathed with longitudinal strips of 
timber ; the roof is thatched with palm leaves, and the sides 
are weather boarded with slabs. 

“ The partners now having a roof over their heads and an 
unfaihng source of food, turn their attention to the culti- 
vation of tobacco. While the first crop of tobacco is grow- 
ing the planters build houses for curing it ; when cui’ed it 
is pressed, baled and sent to France for sale. It comes 
back to the producer in the shape of implements, luxuries, 
clothing and whatever the planter may need. If the second 
crop is a success one of the firm goes to Europe for the pur- 


THE SAVANNAH. 


503 

pose of liiring laborers to assist in the cultivation of the land 
which now assumes the dimensions of a plantation. 

“ He either engages poor wretches who are starving and 
who would sell themselves for a morsel of bread to keep 
soul and body together, escaped felons, or fugitives from 
justice. These creatures are called here bondsmen, and from 
the moment they touch the soil of our plantations they be- 
come our goods and chattels. We have the right to dispose 
of them as we think fit — to sell them if it pays, or kill them 
if they give cause of complaint. From the instant the plan- 
ters get these servants they cease to work themselves, and 
confine their cares to overlooking those whom they can 
justly call their slaves, and even if that slight duty become 
irksome they employ an overseer, to whom they give a 
salary of two thousand pounds of tobacco a year. 

“ Many planters who settled here long after I came, have 
sold out at an enormous profit and are now Hving in Europe 
in great style. As to me, I have but one ambition — ^that is, 
when I have made my pile, I will go to British America, 
where I can live under old England’s government and 
laws.” 

‘‘ How,” inquired Malcolm, who was very much interested 
in Kidd’s narrative, “ do you treat your slaves ? ” 

“ Well, they have a good time of it,” was the ingenious 
reply. “ Every morning when they go their work they are 
allowed to smoke their pipes. Twice a day, morning and 
noon, they have potatoes with pepper and salt ; in the even- 
ing they have hashed meat and j)eas. On Sundays they 
have half the day liberty — an established custom which I 
think would be more honored in the breach than in observ- 
ance. They form habits of idleness which demoralize them. 
Would you believe it there is not a year but that we lose a 
dozen or more — they pretend to have fevers, scurvy, etc. 
Knowing they are valuable, they manage to die, quite hale 
and hearty. The worthless blackguards, ungrateful rascals 
and idle whelps, prefer the repose of death to plantation 


504 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


work. But what better to do with felons, who ask nothing 
more than to be knocked in the head, than to get all the 
work out of them we can.’’ 

The words of the planter aroused the indignant Malcolm, 
who was about to turn from him in disgust, when his atten- 
tion was attracted by a most revolting sight. 

A wretched looking bondsman, with aU the symptoms of 
disease in his cadaverous face and sunken eyes, had just 
fallen under the weight of a bale of tobacco leaves he was 
carrying ; the overseer, with a stout flexible whip of twisted 
bullock hide, struck him on the bare back repeated blows, 
pealing off a strip of the skin at every blow. 

At the sight of this horrible cruelty Malcolm could no 
longer control himself. He sprag at the overseer and with 
a blow stretched him full length upon the earth, 

“Why, what are you about, fool ?” exclaimed Kidd ; and 
then turning to a party of slaves just returning from their 
work, continued, “ seize him,” pointing to Malcolm. 

Horrible thing, that slavery. These wretches, at thh voice 
of their task master, advanced menacingly towards Malcolm, 
the self-elected champion of their rights. 

The danger which he incurred certainly was not very great, 
but it was sufficient to call for the interference of Grey 
Beard. 

Quick as a flash he cocked his rifle and put the muzzle to 
the head of Kidd. “ Another step,” said he to the slaves, 
“ and I will kill your master as I would a dog.” 

At this threat, the execution of which would have de- 
lighted them, they halted. 

“ You see. Sir Ismail,” said the old Buccaneer, “ how low 
these creatures have fallen. They do not even deserve your 
pity much less your interference. Human beings who sub- 
mit thus to slavery deserve nothing but scorn. But as to 
you, J ohn Kidd — a stray dog who swam ashore with a rope 
aroimd your neck — for you to presume to order your slaves 
to seize my friend is a piece of j)resumption which must be 


THE SAVANNAH 


505 


punislied. Sir Ismail, shall wo cowhide him ? I must con- 
fess that I should like to give him a taste of his own remedies 
and make an example of him. He to dare in mj presence, 
to attempt to have you seized — you my traveling companion, 
the hope of my Nativa — is too audacious. Come say, shall 
he he punished or not.” 

“Let him he punished for his cruelty to those poor 
creatures, at least,” said Malcolm. 

“ Now Mr. Overseer,” said Grey Beard, turning to that 
functionary, who had just arisen with a groan, from the 
earth, “ take your slave-whip and anoint the hack of your 
master with twenty lashes.” 

The terror in which- the Buccaneers were held was such 
that neither master or overseer dared to resist. 

Kidd, x^alo with rage and mortification, stripped and pre- 
sented his hare hack. 

“ Lay on,” said Grey Beard to the overseer. 

The whole twenty were laid on with a hearty good will. 

“Now, John Kidd,” said Grey Beard, tossing him. some 
gold, “ serve us up a good supper— there is the money to 
pay for it. We receive no hospitality from you.” 

John Kidd left the room to give the necessary orders to 
his domestics, muttering to himself, as he went, “ You have 
scarred my hack, father Grey Beard, hut I will soon scar 
your heart. Thank God for the chance so long sought. 
You are going home, it seems, hy free and easy stages — 
traveling and eating hy day and sleeping hy night. I will 
send a kite that will go to the dove-cot on a hee line without 
eating or sleeping. I have the honor of a visit from Sir 
Ismail Malcolm, for whom the Spanish government has just 
issued a reward of one milhon dollars in addition to the two 
millions so long out for Monhars and Laurent, and then the 
fifty thousand pounds sterling for Monmouth’s daughter, who 
inherits her mother’s heauty and her father’s claims, such as 
they are, to the throne of England — and the mother’s father, 
too, who would have turned the tide at Sedgemoor had his 


500 


TEE BUCCANEERS. 


advice been followed. A nice little aggregate to be divided 
between John Coade, John Leisler and John Kidd. Grand- 
papa will follow grandaughter, Malcolm will follow “ his sister, ” 
Laurent will follow his rival, Montbars will follow his nephew 
— all five together in a net, say the vault of the old chapel at 
Saint Mary’s. They shall have supper and a luxurious one 
too — one to make tired men sleep soundly and wait for break- 
fast.” 

In the course of an hour a most tempting supper of fish, 
turtle, tropical fruits, and coffee was served. Then followed 
pipes with world renowned tobacco. The next mprning, 
awaking from a sound sleep, the party found breakfast ready, 
waiting for them. The host was not visible ; was represented 
by his overseer. After breakfast the travelers resumed their 
journey; and that evening stopped at Atalaye, the last French 
settlement before plunging into the great desert of Goave, 
which rolled in dreary uniformity and immensity before 
them. 

A moral phenomenon of which it is impossible to form a 
correct idea — unless by personal experience — is the solemn 
awe which the traveler feels at the first sight of the jiraii-ie, 
an immense field of tall waving grass, presenting in the dis- 
tance a iilain of unbroken surface, like the ocean rolling its 
long swells before the wind ; clusters of forest trees arising 
now and then from the uniform vegetation, loom like islands 
on the horizon and complete the illusion. 

“Here is a quiet looking country,” said Grey Beard to Mal- 
colm. “Any one would suppose that here, if anywhere, peace 
and tranquility would reign undisturbed ; but of all the terri- 
tory of San Domingo, this is the spot where human blood has 
been most lavishly spilled. This savannah which devidcs 
French from Spanish San Domingo has ever been the bloody 
field of battle between the frontiersmen of the nationalities. 
Every day furious skirmishes and fearful massacres occur 
in the savannah of Goave — no quarter is given or expected. 
If Nativa did not absolutely require your living presence I 


THE SAVANNAH 


507 


would take you by a shorter route directly across the 
savannah, regardless of the ambuscades into which we must 
of neccessity fall ; but your life is indispensable to Nativa. 
I must use due pmdence and circumspection, therefore 
follow the longer but safer route along the valley of the 
Artibonite.” 

Malcolm, in his impatience to see Nativa, sought by every 
argument to induce Grey Beard to take the shorter route, 
but in vain; the old hunter was immovably in his prudent re- 
solves. 

It was about five o’clock in the afternoon after their en- 
trance into the savannah when the shadows were lengthen- 
ing in the declining sun when Grey Beard, who led the 
party, suddenly halted and listened attentively. 

“ What is the matter ?” said Malcolm coming up to him. 

“I have just herd two reports of arifie.” 

“ What does that mean ? ” said Malcolm, eagerly. 

“It means,” said Grey Beard, with his usual 
“ that we are not alone in the savannah, and as man is the 
most ferocious and cruel of animals to his fellow-man, we 
must be on our guard.” 

“ My advice is that we retrace our steps,” said J alman ; 
“ it is folly to throw our lives away.” 

The old Buccaneer shrugged his shoulders and walked on 
without a reply. 

Grey Beard certaintly loved Nativa, and the momentary 
sacrifice he had made to his national hatred was the best 
proof he could have given of his affection. 

Nevertheless from the moment when, in spite of his pru- 
dent detour, there was a prospect of a fight with the 
Spaniards his Buccaneer instincts were awakened with irre- 
sistible force and controlled every other sentiment. Al- 
though his coolness and composure were the same, a slight 
color deepened the swarthy hue of his cheek ; his dull sleepy 
eye brightened ; a smile furtively beamed on his lips, and 
his bony hand caressed the long barrel of his rifle. Quickly 


508 


THE BUGCANEEJiB. 


other reports of fire-arms, this time very distinct, borne by 
the wind, fell upon the ears of the travelers. 

“Well, we must meet the emergency,” said Malcolm, re- 
priming his carbine — ^the gift of Montbars. 

“ They are friendly guns,” said Grey Beard, with a sigh, as 
if he regretted the disappointed hope of a fight. 

“ Friends ? Why so ? ” said Malcolm. 

“Do you think I don’t know the bark of a Buccaneer 
rifie ? ” said Grey Beard. “It is a Buccaneer hunting party.” 

In fact, in haK an hour the travelers reached an impro- 
vised boucan on the banks of the river Artibonite. . 


CHAPTER LYI. 

THE BOUCAH. 

Malcolm, who had never as yet seen a “boucan,’’ ex- 
amined with great scrutiny the rude and grotesque construc- 
tion called by that name. It was an open shed about thirty 
feet long by twenty wide, in a word, a palm-leaf thatch, 
supported by crotches. From under this shed there ex- 
haled with a thick black smoke a disagreeable and pungent 
odor. Grey Beard entered the boucan, and Malcolm fol- 
lowed. 

All around the boucan long, thin slices of the flesh of 
wild swine and cattle were curing or rather “ boucanning,” in 
the smoke from a fire kindled in a circular hole dug in the 
earth — the floor of the boucan. This fire was fed with the 
hides and bones of the slaughtered animals, producing such 
a stifling, suffocating smoke that Malcolm was soon com- 
j^elled to seek the open air. 

“ Why,” asked he of Grey Beard, “ do your brother Buc- 
caneers not use wood to feed their curing fires?” 

“Because,” said he, “the salt that is disengaged by the 
fire from the skins and bones seasons the meat and gives it 


TEE BOECAN, 


509 


that fine flavor which has made it so marketable. And faith, 
I am not sorry to have fallen in with this hunting party — ■ 
nothing refreshes me so much as a bit of. boucaned meat. 
Shall I order that fellow to serve us up some ? ” 

“ Of what fellow do you speak ? ” said Malcolm. 

“ Why, the fellow attending the fire in the boucan.” 

“ What ! ” exclaimed Malcolm, “ can there be a human 
being in that hut ? I saw none. How could the poor crea- 
ture breathe that smoke without suffocating ? ” 

“ Man guided and controlled by an unbending will can 
accustom himself to anything,” was the cool reply. “ W o 
have a style of education here which trains our bondsmen 
for anything we require of them.” 

“ May I inquire what is that style ? ” said the inquisitive 
Malcolm. 

“Do ‘as they are commanded or be shot on the spot,” 
said Grey Beard. 

About an hour after the arrival of the three travelers at 
the boucan, the hunting party to whom it belonged returned 
from the chase. The sight of Grey Beard gave them great 
pleasure. “ How long have you been out ? ” asked he. 

“Fifteen days,” replied the leader of the party. “We 
number ten in our party and are on a tramp to the head 
v/aters of the Artibonite ; and so far from having a right to 
complain, we have killed three hundred buffaloes, to say 
nothing of deer and wild boars. To-morrow we break up 
our camp here and go further into the savannah. You ol 
course came to join us.” 

“ Ho, I am traveling,” said Grey Beard, “ and must turn 
the head of the river to get home.” 

‘‘Alone?” inquired the hunter, with an expression of as- 
tonishment. 

“ Hot exactly,” replied Grey Beard, pointing to Malcolm 
and Jalman; “ these two young men are my traveling com- 
panions.” 

“To cross the savannah with only a party of three is 


510 


TEE B UGGANEEBS. 


suicide,” said the hunter. “ Believe me, Grey Beard,” he 
continued, “if you wish to get home, safe and sound, remain 
with us until to-morrow. We hunt in the direction of your 
home. Thus you will he free from danger by remaining 
with us.” 

The other Buccaneers seconded this mvitation with so 
much vehemence that Grey Beard was forced to yield. He 
knew that they were not easily frightened and that the 
word danger, in their mouths, meant nothing less than 
death. 

But Malcolm as vehemently protested against the delay. 

Grey Beard merely replied, “ In consideration of Hativa’s 
happiness we cannot afford to risk anything. After taking 
so much trouble to get you, I must at least carry you home 
alive.” 

Finding he could not prevail over the obstinacy of Grey 
Beard, Malcolm resigned himself to the necessity of the 
case, and turned all his attention to the himting party, to 
distract the sad thqughts occasioned by this unavoidable 
delay. 

Those bold and daring rovers of the forest bore a strong 
resemblance to the Buccaneer crew of Montbars. Great 
cordiality and frankness prevailed among them in their de- 
portment toward one another ; there was that something, 
grave and imposing, which awed the young adventurer; 
there was a moral dignity about them which lent an air of 
innate superiority over the ordinary class of fillibusters, as 
they were called by the outside world ; and they scrupu- 
lously adhered to the truth. 

Before proceeding to the more agreeable task of discuss- 
ing supper, the Buccaneer huntsmen performed the process 
of skewering the hides of the buffalo killed in the chase. 

To skewer a hide was simply to stretch it out on the 
ground, by means of wooden pegs, with the raw side up, 
and cover the same with a coating of salt and ashes. This 
done, supper was served. 


THE BOUGAJSf. 


511 


From a huge kettle, the only cooking utensil the hunters 
carried, a servant with a wooden fork dished out the hind 
quarter of a young buffalo cow into a huge wooden bowl. 
He then strained off into a large gourd the gravy in which 
the beef had been cooked, and added lemon juice and spicq, 
— this was called pimentade. 

Each, armed with a, hunting knife and wooden fork, seated 
on the green sward around this huge bowl filled with a 
quarter of beef cooked in its natural juices and seasoned 
with the pimentade, attacked the savory viands with the 
vigor of keen appetites and robust health. When the sharp 
edge of hunger was somewhat blunted the servants passed 
around thin slices of the boucaned meat. 

Jalman, at the sight of the rosy color of this beef, cured 
in such a unique manner, and inhaling the agreeable aroma, 
was reminded of old Virginia bacon-ham. The beef thus 
prepared was really delicious. 

The supper over, the Buccaneers lit their pipes and gave 
place to their servants around their primitive table, and 
while their servants were eating they set up a target and 
amused themselves in firing at the mark. 

Malcolm was astonished at their marvelous skill; and 
that perfectly explained the terror in which they were held 
by the Spaniards. 

Finally, at night, each hunter retired, either alone or with 
a comrade, to his tent, which had been pitched by their ser- 
vants while they were yet at target practice. Servants and 
dogs slept around their masters’ tents; watches were set 
and relieved each other every two hours and kept ward 
over the safety of the camp. 

The next day the camp was broken up and the hunters 
were once more on the tramp. They had exhausted the 
country around, within a radius of twenty miles, of its game. 
They must plunge deeper into the savannah, establish a new 
boucan and another centre of operations. 

Malcolm, deeply interested in scenes so new to him, at- 


512 


TEE BECGANEEBS. 


tached himself to the party of a Buccaneer whom Grey 
Beard designated as the most skillful and famous of hunt- 
ers. This man, whose name was Desrosiers, had six ser- 
vants and a pack of twenty-five stag-hounds. 

When the party reached the frontiers of the new hunting 
ground they deployed into line like skirmishers and ad- 
vanced, each with his rifle cocked and ready to fire, pre- 
ceded by pointer or setter dogs which circled about in front 
in search of game; which were followed by servants hold- 
ing by thongs the hounds coupled together. 

Quickly the keen-scented animal in front of his master, 
Desrosiers, gave two quick and sharp yelps. It had just 
come upon a trail. Then the coupled hounds hearing this 
began to bound and yelp with fury. 

“Let loose the pack,” said Desrosiers. 

The servants obeyed, winding the leather thongs by 
which they had held the dogs, around their waists. 

Scarcely had Malcolm advanced a hundred yards when he 
perceived a wild bull, driven from his cover, rushing towards 
him. 

“ Get behind that tree,” shouted one of the servants. 

Malcolm quickly and prudently followed this advice. The 
bull, facing about from time to time, to keep at bay the 
pack which were yelling at his heels, though his obvious 
object was to escape, was more enraged than frightened; 
his long sharp-pointed horns, his expansive breast, his strong 
and thick set neck, proved that he was no mean adversary 
and that his death would be no child’s play. 

Desrosiers, with great following the movements 

of the chase, severab times raised his rifle to fire, but every 
time brought it down again upon seeing a servant or dog in 
his line of fire. 

After a fighting retreat of some five minutes the enraged 
animal changed his tactics and took the oflensive. The ser- 
vants and the dogs, not daring to give way in the sight of 
their master, who would have made them pay dearly for 


TEE BOUGAN. ' 5I3 

their weakness, displayed great agility in avoiding the 
charges of the hull without running away from him. 

“ Why don’t that man shoot the bull ? ” said Malcolm to 
one of the servants, designatiug one who was within five 
paces of the animal. 

The man stared at him as though he had uttered a horrid 
blasphemy. 

“ Fire before the master ! ” said he, finding his tongue ,* 
“ what are you thinking about, Sir Ismail ? ” 

“ It seems to me in such a case it would be better to be 
a little disrespectful to master than to be gored by a bull.” 

“ By no means,”- replied the man. “ One might recover 
from the gore of a bull’s horn, but never from a bullet in 
the brain.” 

“ What ! ” exclaimed the astonished Malcolm, “ would 
Desrosiers assassinate any of his servants who in such an 
emergency fired on the bull ? ” 

He would punish him, that is certain,” replied the ser- 
vant. 

“And the mode of punishment,” continued Malcolm, “is 
simply to blow out his brains ?” 

“ Yes, sir,” replied the servant, “that is the custom.” 

While the servant was speaking, Malcolm saw the bull 
dashing toward himself 

Hesitation was out of the case. He raised his rifle and 
fired. The ferocious animal, struck full in the breast, stood 
still for a second, but quickly gatheredjury from the acute- 
ness of the wound, and uttering a long bellowing howl, 
with blood-shot eye, foaming mouth, tail erect and quivering 
mane, rushed with irresistible fury upon Sir Ismail. 

Malcolm, ignorant of the elementary tactics of a bull 
hunt, ran before him, instead of turning around a tree. 
This manoeuvre, the most perilous he could have executed, 
exposed him to certam death. He soon perceived his error. 
Impeded in his flight by the weeds and brambles, obstacles 
which the brawny breast of the animal brushed away like 


514 


THE" B TIGGANEERS. 


gossamer webs, every second brought the ferocious animal 
nearer and' nearer to him ; already he felt the hot breath of 
the bull upon his neck, when suddenly the bellowing ceased 
and he heard a heavy fall behind him. 

“ISTo necessity for running now,” said the voice of Des- 
rosiers ; ‘‘all is over.” 

Malcolm turned and saw the bull lying still and dead 
upon the earth. 

I thank you, sir,” said Malcolm ; “ you have rendered 
me a service I shall never forget.” 

“ ISTot worth talking about. "What I have done for you I 
do every day for one of my dogs.” 

“ How did you manage to kill that bull ?” said Malcolm, 
“He lies as though he were struck by lightning.” 

“In a very simple manner,” said Hesrosiers, Tviping.the 
blade of his hunting knife on his sleeve. “ I first ham-strung 
him, then finished by a thrust in the brain. I prefer the 
steel to lead. Of over one hundred bulls I have killed, nine 
.times out of ten I have never used my rifio. It saves pow- 
der and does not injure the hide.” 

This was not an idle boast of Hesrosiers. Hides bearing 
his brand commanded a preinium in European markets. 

With this business view many Buccaneers would entrap, 
on the run, the bulls as they fled from their coverts at the 
barking of the dogs, and never used their rifles except in 
case of an unexpected attack or extreme necessity. 

As soon as the animal was dead the servants fell to work 
on the carcass, and after having eviscerated it took out the 
marrow bones and presented them to Hesrosiers. 

The Buccaneer kept one of them and presented the other 
to Malcolm, who, not au fait with the etiquette of the chase, 
instinctively recoiled with a gesture of disgust. 

Hesrosiers smiled. “ Ah,” said he, “ see what it is to be 
brought up within the pale of civilization. Young man, 
where ideas and habits fossilize a man he grows old before 
tie can learn what is good.” 


THE BOUCAN. 


515 


The Buccaneer then broke the bones and swallowed the 
yet warfn marrow they contained, and appeared to enjoy 
the luxury with great gusto. 

The chase was then renewed. Every time the Buccaneer 
brought down a wild bull, the servants skinned the animal 
with singular dexterity and promptness, and then folding up 
the hide, to prevent it becoming entangled in the limbs of 
trees and undergrowth, throwing it over their shoulders, 
followed on with this burden of a hundred pounds. 

When the day was nearly spent, each servant having re- 
ceived a hide apiece, Desrosiers returned to the rendezvous, 
now designated as the new camping ground. 

The next day the hunt was renewed, and finding them- 
selves in force, the hunters resolved to cross the savannah of 
Goave up to the Spanish frontiers. This expedition, as Mal- 
colm afterwards learned from Grey Beard, was one of ex- 
treme temerity. For more than five years no party, unless 
it was Grey Beard himself, had ever dared to cross the 
savannah in a direct line from east to west. 

This little caravan, which numbered, all told, sixty men, 
after a five hours’ tramp found themselves in a large grove 
of white oak — a wooded oasis in the desert. The heat was 
overpowering and the caravan halted. 

Some of the hunters, while the servants were engaged 
pitching their tents, resolved to explore this timber belt for 
trails. Malcolm followed them, and in his turn was followed 
by Grey Beard, who, after the encounter with the bull, fol- 
lowed his daughter’s lover like a shadow. 

Scarcely had Desrosiers, the leader of the scouting party, 
advanced a hundred yards into the grove when he uttered 
an exclamation of surprise, and, turning to his companions, 
said, “Friends, this timber belt has been traveled this very 
day by human beings; here are the tracks.” 

The hunters examined the trail and then, calling Grey 
Beard, whose consummate experience was appreciated by 
all, they asked his advice. One glance from the old Buc- 


516 


THE B UCGANEEBS. 


caneer’s eyes was sufficient to enable him to give an oj^inion 
in the case. 

“ Comrades,” said he, “I find here what is inexplicable — 
the fresh tracks of a man traveling in company with two 
deers and a pack of hounds. Such is the fact; but the phe- 
nomenon puzzles me.” 

The hunters had too high an opinion of Grey Beard’s 
veracity to doubt the fact that he believed as he had stated ; 
but it seemed so very extraordinary that they hesitated in 
receiving it as a fixed fact. How, thought they, could a hu- 
man being live alone, with two deers and a pack of hounds, 
in a timber oasis in the centre of a desert, m isolation as 
thorough and complete as a rock in the ocean ? 

“ Comrade,” said Desrosiers, “ if you are not joking speak 
seriously ; we must follow this trail wherever it leads ; and 
none know how to follow a trail as well as you do.” 

“I never joke, Desrosiers,” said Grey Beard. 

“Well, one word more — is this trail, which so bewilders 
us, old or new? ” 

“ Hot an hour old.” Saying this the taciturn old Buccan- 
eer took the advance and, with eyes fixed on the trail, fol- 
lowed it. 


TEE FUGITIVES. 


517 


CHAPTER LYIL 

THE FUGITIVES. 

The old Ininter was so veteranized by liis forest life, and so 
skilled in tlie mysteries of the chase that, although the trail 
was scarcely visible to the naked eye, he followed it at a 
rapid pace. 

Time after time when the soil, covered by thick turf grass, 
ceased to give the necessary indications of a trail, ho halted 
for some few seconds and, looking around for a new sign, a 
broken twig or trampled grass, resumed his march. After 
. the lapse of a half-hour the veteran hunter ranchero, tuiming 
to his companions with a smile of self complacency, made 
the signal of silence. The hunters quickly obeyed this 
mute appeal. 

“ See, comrades,” said he, in a whisper, pointing to an 
open space or natural clearing in the grove, “ there is one 
of the deer.” 

“ True, by my faith,” said Desrosiers, in the same tone ; 
“ but it does not follow because we see a deer v/e must find 
a man and a pack of hounds. A deer wandering in the 
savannah is an ordinary occurrence.” 

‘‘ If you had observed the animal attentively, Desrosiers,’" 
said Grey Beard, “y^^ would not have made that remark. 
Observe the fearlessness of his attitude, the peculiarity of his 
movements ; that is no ordinary animal.” 

‘‘True, again you are right,” said Desrosiers; “the looks, 
gait, and attitude of that deer indicate something very un- 
accountable and strange, something abnormal, as scholastics 
say. Perhaps it is enchanted, — yes, there is sorcery and 
witchcraft beneath that animals hide. We will soon see 
what it is made of. Fortunately I have a silver bullet with 


518 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


The Buccaneers, like all other superstitious persons of that 
age, firmly believed that a silver bullet was proof against the 
enchanter’s spell, and so soon as Desrosiers had charged his 
rifle with the costly projectile he leveled it at the deer and 
fired. 

The animal, struck in the side, bounded in the air uttering 
a jplaintive bleat and then darting into a thicket disappeared. 

The hunters hurried after him. Presently a cry — half yell, 
half lamentation — came, hoarse, terrible, keen and doleful, 
from the depths of that thicket. 

The Buccaneers halted. Those men, so regardless of 
every danger and every foe which they saw and imderstood, 
however terrible to human eyes it might have been, felt their 
audacious spirits sink within them at the contact with su- 
pernatural embodiments of sorcery — those mysteries of en- 
chantment which exercised over their rude intellects such 
unbounded sway. 

This time they had not long to tremble in conjecture. 
The source of the cry which had rooted them as it were to 
the earth did not long keep them in suspense. A man, 
whose nakedness was barely covered by coarse canvas rags, 
his face by a matted sunburnt beard, came forth from that 
chapparal jungle with a huge knotted club in his hand to 
meet them. The deer, struck by the bullet of Desrosiers, 
followed him limping and bleeding. 

This heterogeneous group was so unexpected, so strange, 
the aspect of the wild man armed with a knotted club pre- 
senting such a picture of savage ferocity walking with 
iieiwous spasmodic jerks and eyes glistening with such a wild, 
unearthly light, that the Buccaneers, in spite of valor long 
tried in terrible struggles and of human strife, felt their 
hearts sinking with fear. G-rey Beard, who of the hunters 
was most cool and composed, leveled his rifle at what he 
supposed was the enchantation of a demon. Malcolm threw 
up the muzzle of the leveled rifle as the finger of the unerr- 
ing hunter was about to press the trigger. 


THE FUGITIVES. 


519 


Stay your hand,” said Malcolm as tlie harmless charge 
spent its force in the au\ “ You were about to commit a use- 
less act of blood. "We are too many to fear one — man — at 
least in shape.” 

“ You are right,” said Grey Beard, bringing down his rifle ; 
“ whether the enemy be Orson, Caliban or demon, it has at 
least human shape and form.” 

It was not in the nature of the Buccaneers to remain long 
under the pressure of fear. After the first moment of sur- 
prise was over they observed that the wild man slackened his 
pace as he neared them, and finally he halted and seemed 
undecided to advance or retreat. Then the Buccaneers ad- 
vanced. The wild man faced about in retreat and bounded 
off with a fieetness that would have soon distanced his per- 
surers but anon he seemed to change his mind, retraced his 
steps to where he had left — the deer no longer able to 
follow him — and kneeling by the animals side began to 
probe the wound from which the blood was flowing. In a 
few seconds both the man and his dying deer were surround- 
ed by the Buccaneer hunting party. 

“ "Who are you, and how does it happen that we find you 
here under such circumstances ? ” said Grey Beard. 

At this q^uestion. the wildftman with the knotted club, 
stretched open his eyes ; and then, after some hesitation, as 
trying to recollect words, with a hoarse voice that seemed 
to come with difficulty from his throat, said, “I was a 
bondsman to a Buccaneer planter ; what I am now I cannot 
tell. Why have you shot my deer ? It never did you any 
harm ? ” 

“ This man is an absconding bondsman, a marron as we 
call him under our laws ; his life is forfeit ; we must put 
him to death,” said Desrosiers. 

This threat seemed to produce no sensible effect upon 
the fugitive slave. Absorbed by the distress with which 
the sight of the dying deer filled him, he took no heed cf 
what passed around him. Presently two large tears rolled 


620 


THE BUCCANEERS, 


down his cheeks, his breast heaved with a convulsive sob ; 
his pet deer was no more. 

The curiosity of the Buccaneers was so excited that the 
bloody proposition of Besrosiers was not seconded ; all 
sought to learn the antecedents of the marron. 

Grey Beard resumed his interrogatories. “ What is your 
name and how long have you been in the savannah ? ” 

“My name,” said he, after a pause, brushing back the 
long matted sunburnt hair and revealing a fine intellectual 
brow, “when I was a Christian and gentleman, was Julian 
Savelli ; when I became a slave my master called me July 
Saveall ; what it is now I cannot tell. I have lost the faculty 
of calculating time, and cannotTell how long I have been in 
the savannah.” 

At this reply from the fugitive one of the Buccaneers 
present drew near and examined him closely. “ This man 
does not lie,” said he ; “ he was a slave of mine. I now 
recognize him. He left me six years ago.” 

“ Ah, I knew he was a marron,'' said Besrosiers, proud of 
liis sagacity. 

The master of the fugitive appeared to hesitate and Grey 
Beard, remarking his embarrassment, said to him gravely, 
“ You know that to practice deception on your comrades is 
in our code a grave ofi:ence — is this man a marron ? ” 

“ No,” replied the Buccaneer, “ the man is innocent. In 
a few words I will explain the case. July, as I call him, on 
coming to San Bomingo found himself without resources 
and took service with me. Unfortunately for our relations 
as master and slave he was educated and accomphshed. I 
became impatient with him when I found him incapable of 
supporting the fatigues and rendering the labor required of 
him, and I soon conceived a great aversion to him for having 
imposed on me. About three months after he had been in 
my service, one day on a chase, I gave him the skins of two 
wild bulls to carry ; he took them, but after carrying them 
about ten minutes laid them down and declared he could 


THE FUGITIVES. 


521 


not carry them any farther. Enraged at what I thought 
obstinacy and indolence I struck him a blow on the head 
with the butt of my rifle. He fell, groaned and lay stiU. I 
put my hand on his heart, it had ceased to beat. I thought 
I had killed him. After taking his arms I left him where he 
lay. This took place in one of those wild, dismal timber 
swamps in the valley of the Artibonite. But there was 
nothing to prevent him from retracing his steps when he 
came to life.” 

“ Explain yourself in your turn, my friend,” said Grey 
Beard, to the fugitive bondsman ; “ tell us what passed after 
your restoration to consciousness.” 

“ When I became conscious,” said Savehi, (as v^e shall call 
him), with many long pauses to find Vv^ords he had so long 
ceased to use, to expres his ideas, “ and found myself alone 
and deserted in a trackless desert, I gave up to despair. I 
passed the night in an agony of dehrium. The next day, 
though Y/eakened by the loss of blood from my wound, I 
arose and put myself on the route to seek my master. It 
was then only that I discovered that one of the dogs of the 
pack had remained with me ; the faithful animal licked my 
hands and seemed by his movements to invite me to follow 
him. I trusted to his instinct and followed him until night 
came on and with it ah the tortures of hunger and horror 
of desolation. My master had, by a lucky accident, left with 
me a quarter of venison, which I was carrying for his supper. 
I shared this raw meat with the dog. This food, disgusting 
as it was, gave me some strength. I climbed one of the 
tallest trees I could find, one of those enormous live oaks 
that have been growdng for centuries in the vahey of the 
Artibonite. I saw the sea, the open sea. This insphed me 
with hope and courage. I knew that my master was in the 
habit of sending his hides by coasting vessels to Cape Hay- 
tien. I hoped by this means to find him if I could reach 
the coast. I traced a due east course to steer, and de- 
scended ; but alas, scarcely liad I advanced ten paces before 


522 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


I discovered tlie folly of attempting to steer a direct course 
tliroiigli sucli a dense uniformity of vegetation without a 
compass. IMany times fahing in with buffalo trails and deer 
tracks I thought they would lead me to the coast. Vain 
hope ; the more I followed them the more bewildered I be- 
came.” 

Malcolm, surprised at the elegant manner in which this 
wild man of the savannah expressed himself, interrupted him 
at this period of his narrative by asking, “ May I enqume, my 
friend, why you left Europe, and what was your social 
position ? ” 

‘'I am an Italian by birth. I was educated for the church. 
I was private tutor to prince Henry, duke of Gloucester, 
the younger brother of his present majesty, James II. He 
died suddenly and I was suspected. For a Papist and a 
priest to be suspected in England in the reign of Charles II. 
was equivalent to judicial assassination and I fled, and hero 
I am.” 

“ Ah,” said Grey Beard, “ you are the unlucky priest that 
married prince Henry to Julia Copley, and unsettled so ter- 
ribly the Protestant succession party ; and the prince’s death, 
was laid on you.” 

“ I am he,” said Savelli 

“ Well, my friend,” said Grey Beard, with a grim smile 
“ let me give you some political information. WiUiam of 
Orange is in London under the name of William III. His 
'present majesty,’ James II., is in Dublin trying to get back 
his own. Pope Innocent the eleventh is dead ; and Paul of 
Farnesse is Pope Alexander VIII. Excuse my interruption ; 
pray go on.” 

The significant glance of intelligence which Grey Beard 
and SaveUi exchanged as the former uttered these last words 
added to the keen and lively interest which Malcolm had 
begun to feel for the unfortunate refugee. He entreated 
him to continue. 

" The third day after I was abandoned by my master,” con- 


TEE FUGITIVES. 


523 


tinned Savelli, my dog, pinched by hunger, hunting for 
something to allay the cravings of hunger, came upon the 
litter of a doe and killed two fawns. I tried to kindle a fire 
after the mode of the Caribbean Indians by rubbing two dry 
pieces of wood together until they became heated enough by 
attrition to ignite, but could not succeed. I had to content 
myself with sharing the raw flesh with my dog. The loath- 
ing which I felt for raw flesh was not at the second trial 
quite so intense as at the first. By degrees I became accus- 
tomed to the savage life I have led ever since. To aid the 
instinct of my canine friend and companion in misfortune I 
began to study the habits and customs of the wild game of 
these tropical forests, such as swine, buffalo, deer. I learned • 
their favorite cruising grounds, their trails and the paths 
they pursued to get water— by them I learned the localities 
of mineral springs. I have discovered indications of vast 
deposits of mineral and metalic wealth which- lie beneath the 
surface of this island for future industry to develope ; but 
for my more immediate necessities I sought to learn the time 
w^hen and where void game lay down to rest — the propitious 
time to attack or entrap them. From that time I had 
nothing to dread from hunger ; I was always sure of a sup- 
ply of food. As well as I can calculate time I led this life 
four or five months — the life of a wild beast of the forest — 
v/hen one day my dog brought me a pair of live fawns, car- 
rying them in his mouth as cats do kittens. I determined 
to raise them as companions of my solitude. Success 
crowmed my efforts. Poor Lionel, whom’ you have just 
killed, was one of them. He was very much attached to 
me; he was as faithful as a dog and as intelligent as a human 
being.” 

The refugee, after uttering these words, wiped away the 
tears which were filling his eyes and with a doleful glance 
at his dead pet, continued, “My poor Lionel and his mate 
Julia — I named them after two English friends of mine. Sir 
Lionel Copley and his sister Juha — grew in strength and 


524 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


gentleness; when one day I found a litter of wild puppies, 
the brood of a stag hound which had strayed from its master 
and become wild. These now pupils succeeded to a charm 
and gave me a great deal of satisfaction. I was no longer 
alone — I had friends and companions to protect me. From 
that moment, I tell j^ou, I not only became reconciled to my 
new life, but happy in its enjoyment. My body hardened by 
exposure and strengthened by exercise, I had become 
strong, active and fearless; the most formidable games of 
the forest were for me but recreation. I do not remember of 
chasing a deer in vain. Whenever I saw an animal, let the 
distance be what it might, I was sure of my game. You 
now know my history. Am I to rejoice or grieve at seeing 
3"ou? I know not; so far the meeting has been ominous — 
it has cost me my poor Lionel.” 

The simple unvarnished narrative of the fugitive sensibly 
affected the Buccaneers. It was easy to see by the exj^res- 
sion of their bronzed faces that a majority of them sympa- 
thized with SaveUi. 

Desrosiers was the first to speak. “ Comrades,” said he 
“ it is not a question of sympthy we must argue, or a case of 
distress we must relieve. We must preserve in tact our 
ancient laws and customs, or we guard not our rights. I 
contend that there was nothing to prevent this man from 
finding his way to some of our hunting camps. We must 
consider him a marron and put him to death.” 

Malcolm expected to hear this cruel proposition of Des- 
rosiers rejected unanimously with disgust ; but they were 
silent. Tradition was a sacred thing in their eyes — it was 
their strength. 

“ Comrades,” said Grey Beard, after a long and ominous 
pause, “ I differ in opinion from brother Desrosiers ; but I 
admit the case requires consideration and discussion. I 
contend that it was impossible, under all the peculiar cir- 
cumstances, for Savelli to have taken the back trail after 
having been so long unconscious, more particularly as his 


THE FUGITIVES. 


525 


duty was simply to follow liis master and take no note of 
the track he pursued. I am the more confirmed in this 
opinion by the fact that many cases have occurred of im- 
migrants dying of hunger in the forest where they had 
straggled, that too on the coast in the neighborhood of set- 
tlements. I propose we put it to vote ; let the voice of 
the majority in a regular camp council decide.” 

The proposal of Grey Beard was then accepted, conforming 
as it did to established usuage. TIis opinion was sustained, 
but one voice, that of Desrosiers, dissenting to the great re- 
lief of Malcolm. 

“Now, my friend,” said Grey Beard to the fugitive, 
“ whistle up your pack and follow us to camp ; and have 
your trial in a proper and becoming manner.” 

“ I do not refuse to follow you,” said Savelli, “ but I refuse 
to call my pack so long as poor Lionel remains here un- 
buried. I do not wish to infiict on his companions the grief 
which the sight of his dead body will elicit. Then, if I am 
condemned to be shot, why reveal the retreat where they are 
now safe ? ” 

The Buccaneers, on their return to camp, called a coun- 
cil. The deliberations were short. Savelli, with the excep- 
tion of one dissenting voice, was pronounced innocent. 

“ Now my friends,” said Grey Beard, “ we have one little 
formality to perform — that is to proclaim Savelli one of us. 
You know that every articled bondsman, after serving his 
term of three years, has the right to Buccaneer. . This man 
ceased to be a marron three years ago, from the fact that his 
master abandoned him and rendered his absence compul- 
sory, and his term expired during his compulsory absence. 
His master owes him a rifie, three pounds of powder, six of 
lead, a new suit of clothes, two pair of shoes and three 
hounds.” 

To this requisition there was no demurage or argument. 
The former master, who had so brutally treated his serf, was 
compelled to submit. 


526 


TEE BUCGAEEEnS. 


At the close of the day the caravan halted for the 
night. They were in the centre of the savannah. The next 
morning Grey Beard, Malcolm and Jalman parted company 
with the hunting party and went on their way towards 
Boger grove. They had passed the most dangerous part of 
the great savannah of Goave. Four days more they reached, 
safe and sound, their journey’s end. 

At the sight of that cottage nesthng in the cool shade of 
that grand primeval park, around whose portal so many 
sweet memories clustered, Malcolm felt himself a prey to 
the most violent emotions, which required all his energies 
to calm and subdue ; the hope of meeting a living love or 
the fear of finding her dead and in an untimely grave rent 
his heart in twain. He trembled at the idea of rushing un- 
announced into the presence of either the living or the 
dead. “ I entreat you Grey Beard,” said he with a quiver- 
ing lip, “ go in and announce us to Nativa.” 

“ What is all that for ? ” was the gruff reply of Grey 
Beard. “ Ah, I see now,” continued he, “ you want to know 
whether she is dead or alive.” 

“ In the name of Heaven, Grey Beard,” ejaculated Mal- 
colm, “ speak not so.” 

“ Umph ! Why not ? ” replied Grey Beard. “ If she is 
dead, it is not our fault, and nothing more is to be said.” 

“ Master,” exclaimed Jalman, pointing to a white form 
gliding about among the trunks of the trees, “ yonder she 
is ; from the lightness of her steps I have grave doubts of 
her ever being ill at all.” 

Malcolm uttered a cry of joy and ran to meet her ; buo 
alas, what was the bitter disappointment of the young man 
when he found himself in the presence, not of Nativa, but of 
a young woman who was a j)erfect stranger to him. “ Why, 
where is Nativa ? ” said he in a hollow voice, scarce above a 
whisper. 

Scarcely had the unknown cast her eyes upon him when 
she, in her turn, uttered an exclamation of surprise. “ You 


THE FUGITIVES. 


527 


liere, Sir Ismail Malcolm? ” said she. “ Why really this is an 
honor I did not expect. I am truly delighted to see you again.’’ 

For a moment Malcolm thought he was dreaming. Who 
was this woman, who called him so familiarly by his name 
and appeared so glad to see him ? He looked upon her in 
a sj)ecies of daft amazement. She had a perfect figure, 
beautiful features — though somewhat passe, like a jaded 
and hlasse woman of fashion — and withal an expression of 
flippancy which seriously impaired their delicacy. As he 
continued to gaze at her a dim recollection of having once 
seen her grew upon him. 

“It appears. Sir Ismail,” said she, pertly returning his 
unconscious stare, “ ycu have some difficulty in recognizing 
me, after all. Our acquaintance was so very transient, my 
-introduction so very informal, and you so much occupied 
with weightier matters, that I cannot blame you. Do you 
remember a little incident in the streets of Leogane — ^your 
first interview with captain Laurent? Weil, I am Mariane 
Duval — the lady of the bouquet — who received such an un- 
grateful return for her little feminine civilities. WeU, we 
poor daughters of Eve have the happy privilege of changing 
our affections. I transferred my heart from Laurent to — 
Gourd Head, and married him ; and I am very happy — he 
does what I tell him, and nothing I do not tell him. But as 
to Nativa, well, after being very ill some two or three days 
after Grey Beard left to go for you, she performed a very 
miraculous cure upon herself and left here in company with 
a gallant as happy as a lark in the bright morning sun.” 

From the words of the woman Malcolm gleaned but one 
fact — that Nativa had gone away ; that her illness was a 
delusion under cover of which she had fled father, home, and 
himself. He smote his brow in agony ; he felt faint and 
lent against an oak for support. 

By this time Grey Beard and Jalman came up. 

“ Is Nativa dead ? ” said Grey Beard, in a husky voice, 
proving thereby that his habitual plilegm could not always 
conceal his emotions. 


528 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


“ Dead — to you. Dead — to me/’ said Malcolm in a whis- 
per, like one talking in the chamber of the dead. “ She has ' 
fled like a guilty thing from her father’s house.” 

‘‘ Woman, tell me the truth ? ” said Grey Beard to Madam 
Gourd Head, at the same time cocking his rifle. “What 
has happened here, since I left home ? ” 

• Madam Gourd Head, knowing the character of the man 
to whom she spoke, related what she stated was all she 
knew — that was about five days ago a young gentleman, 
whom Nativa appeared to have previously seen or known at 
Cape Haytien, came one evening, stayed all night and the 
next morning he and Nativa left for the coast, taking with 
her all of her clothing, which the young man carried for her 
in a sack.” 

“ Now go,” said Grey Beard to the woman. Then un-- 
cocking his rifle and bringing the butt heavily to the ground, 
clasped his hands around the muzzle, and leant on it for 
support. 

Two big tears — the first that Malcolm had ever seen ii» 
that old man’s eyes — rolled down his bronzed cheeks. 

“ Old man,” said Malcolm, clasping his hand, “ your tears 
have sealed mine. I never watched over her cradle in the 
silent hours of the night, I never made myself a child to 
share her infantile sports, I neither clothed or fed her ; your 
sufferings are greater than mine. I have stood in the gates 
of hell, I have been in the jaws of death, I have been under 
the spell of Circe, and I am saved. Thank God for the great 
deliverance.” 

“ Young man,” said Grey Beard, “ blessings brighten as 
they take their flight. I have played a false part and God 
has punished me in my old age. I sought to save her from 
the wiles of hollow hearted jpoliticians, and I have made her 
the prey of wolves. With to-morrow’s dawn go back to 
your uncle, and tell him that Montbars is right, and is 
always right ; and tell him that I have gone to seek and 
save Nativa alone.'' 


THE POSTSCRIPT 


529 


CHAPTER LVIII. 

THE POSTSCEIPT, 

We close these annals of 1689, after one year of a revo- 
lutionary era has passed over England and her colonies. 
They opened with a revolution which had done much, yet 
had much more to do to consolidate its power. It had 
expelled James II. from the soil and installed William III. 
on the throne of England. 

They close with two rival kings, one holding court in the 
capital of Ireland, supported by the power of France ; the 
other reigning in London, at the head of an anomalous po- 
litical combination or coalition of Protestant England, Pro- 
testant Germany, Catholic Spain and Catholic Austria. 

Two rival parliaments vieing with each other in vindic- 
tive legislation, two hostile armies facing each other across 
the waters of the Boyne to decide the question of a second 
Restoration or second Usurpation, and both with equal ap- 
parent chances of success. 

From the day the first parliament of William and Mary 
met there began the schism between the high church and 
low church party in England. In politics they became Whig 
and Tory. 

Day by day the stream widened, and in widening divided 
the powerful parties who, though they could join hands 
over the tiny brook to effect a common object, now viewed 
each other as enemies; when that brook, which once 
scarce parted the grass beneath their feet, after widening 
and deepening at every pace became a wide and rapid river 
rolling between them. 

William III. had become the leader of the low church 
party — the religious democracy of the age — and high church- 


530 


THE BUCGANEEBS. 


men were regretting Catholic James and Calvinistic Wil- 
liam. 

Then came that plentiful crop of apostates, traitors and 
renegades which renders that period of the reign of William 
III., between his accession and the battle of the Boyne, so 
very remarkable. 

At this time — ^Slst of December, 1689 — James II. is in 
Dublin, which he called in his proclamation of the 7th of 
May, 1689, the capital of the “ United Kingdom of Eng- 
land, Ireland and Scotland,” and has for his premier the 
count d’Avaux, one of the most remarkable men of 
France, and one of the most accomplished diplomats of any 
age, and who was to his king Louis XIV. what Alexander 
Farnesse, duke of Parma, was to Philip II. — the most 
faithful at the same time the most perfidious of all men 
living. His fidelity to his king was only equaled by his 
treachery to all others,” and to whom he was said to have 
borne a remarkable personal resemblance — as described by 
the historian Motley, “ a noble commanding shape, entitled 
to the admiration which an energetic display of great 
powers, however unscrupulous, must always command ; a 
dark meridional physiognomy, a quick, alert, imposing head, 
jet black close clipped hair, a bold eagle’s face, with full 
bright restless eyes ; a man rarely reposing, ever ready and 
never alarmed.” 

Such was the man selected by Louis XIY. to take the 
role of the duke of Parma — in that “Flanders” of Ensr- 
land — with this difference, that Alexander Farnesse was a 
bigot, zealot and enthusiast in his religion — d’Avaux had 
no religion at all. 

At this time, too, the English army, under the command 
of the duke of Schomberg, lay strategically besieged in the 
north of Ireland, wasted by fevers during the fall and winter 
months of 1689. 

With this phase of civil and military transactions the year 
1690 opens upon the annals of English colonial history across 


THE POSTSCRIPT. 


531 


the Atlantic ocean. On the 31st of December, 1G89, after the 
count d’Avaux had closed his monthly report to the king at 
Y ersailles, he wrote a postscript to the same with invisible 
chemical ink, which, when saturated with another chemical 
preparation in the king’s closet, became visible to king 
Louis and Madame Maintenon, in these Avords : 

“ Three things. Sire, are absolutely necessary to establish 
the supremacy of France in Ireland. Many things. Sire, may 
be thought but not said — and I thinh them here., as they can- 
not appear in the official dispatch which must go to the war 
minister after being revised by your majesty. 

First, this lout of an English king must not have the 
liberty of felo de se, politically ; in a Avord he must be re- 
stricted from harming A or France. On my knees, 
Sire, I ask you to request, if necessary enjoin on him, to-con- 
fine himself to his royal duties in Dublin castle and there 
only. Before God and all the saints of His church, I say 
it, if ‘ James Stuart, king of England,’ holds the battle 
chart on a field day, that day will be one of bitterness to 
France. Say it, nod it, Avhisper it, and it is done. From 
the day he left the harbor of Brest up to this day every 
step he has taken is a false step. Contrary to my remon- 
strances he would convoke a parliament in Dublin, a parlia- 
ment of bogtrotters and rapparees, to whom the jacquerie 
of France are perfect gentlemen ; and these canaille in one 
day passed ill-timed acts of vindictive legislation enough to 
have turned the reactionary tide which Avas setting strongly 
in his favor in England, had not the revolutionary parlia- 
ment of England been pursuing the same mischievous 
policy of disuniting sects and races instead of uniting them. 
Then he must march north with the army, and when the 
heretics slammed the gates of Londonderry in his face he 
faces about, retreats back to Dublin, and leaves the command 
in the hands of Hamilton, an English apostate and traitor — 
thus committing three bj^unders when any one of them would 
have been amply sufficient for any reasonable man. What 


532 


THE BUGGANEEBS. 


else, Sire, but blunders more criminal than crimes can be ex- 
pected from a king who so far, at least* has bartered three 
kingdoms for one mass. No disparagement to the mass. 
Princes are the temporal vicegerents of Almighty God and 
His church, and their acts are not to be measured by the 
ordinary gage of mortality. A wiser king and better 
churchman could have got a dispensation from the mass, and 
reigned in peace until he could convert or crush the heretics. 

“ Secondly., Sire, the English Protestant parties, ‘ high 
church or low church,’ as they are called, must become an- 
tagonistic ; politically now they are only divided, and I am 
ha])py to say that an event has occurred which will speed the 
work of division at a very satisfactory rate. About a month 
ago the earl of Shrewsbury, the 'secretary of state for Wil- 
liam of Orange, had a private conversation in the lobby of 
the parliament house with the duke of Grafton, who carried 
the crown in the coronation procession of the so-called 
‘ William III.’ Both these men are apostates from Rome, 
and traitors to James II., and have already taken one step 
towards a second apostasy and a second treason. Shrews- 
bury said to Grafton, in the bitterness of his heart, ‘ Oh that 
Monmouth were living.’ ‘ But Monmouth’s daughter — 
lives,’ whispered Grafton. ‘ But Monmouth,’ replied Shrews- 
bury, ‘ in his last interview with his uncle, James II., signed 
a paper acknowledging that his father, Charles II., was not 
married to Lucy Walters, and renounced for himself and his 
son by the duchess of Buccleug ail claim or right to the 
crovn or crown property.’ ‘Yes,’ replied Grafton, ‘he told 
a lie to save his life. When his days were numbered he 
told the truth to save his soul, and claimed Anne Hepburn 
as his true and lawful wife, which marriage the bill of attain- 
der, passed by the parliament of James H., ignores.’ These 
two noblemen then exchanged significant glances, and after 
whispering together some seconds parted to meet again that 
night in the vaults of ‘ Lady Place.’ And there they met 
one John Coade, a hurley Jack Cade of a fellow, who led 


THE POSTSCRIPT, 


533 


the insurrection against the proprietary government of Mary- 
land last August. This fellow was once a priest in the 
church of England, and was transported to the Maryland 
plantations in the reign of Charles II. You must know, 
Sire, that the English colonies in America are to them what 
San Domingo is to us. Well, this fellow, previous to his 
clerical degradation performed the marriage rite between 
Monmouth and Anne Hepburn, and told them where to find 
the record, which, though altered, confirms Monmouth’s 
confession in the Tower of London ; and he has agreed to 
produce Monmouth’s daughter wJmi required^ for a suitable 
compensation. Thus, Sire, we have a Protestant candidate 
and candidate 07 ihj^ to dispute the throne of England with 
Calvinistic William of Orange, simply to divide the Pro- 
testant power of England — the arch fiend of the anti-Chris- 
tian coalition — against France. Shrewsbury and Grafton 
will be the first traitors to the second rebellion of England 
for which they are eminently fitted. 

“ Thirdly,^ the distressed Catholics of England and her 
colonies who have been hors de loi by the late revolution, 
must have relief in money, and it is needless for me to tell 
your majesty that the rich cities of Germany and Spain can 
contribute to this without depleting the treasury of France. 

“ Since my last dispatch king James gave an audience to 
one Montbars, as he calls himself, the' chief of that terrible 
organization known as the ‘ Buccaneers ot the Antilles 
and this time the Lord inspired him with wisdom enough to 
take my advice. He has made a treaty, offensive and de- 
fensive, with this Buccaneer, subject to the approval of 
France. In this he has entrusted his maritime affairs to 
this Montbars, and the management of his colonial affairs in 
America to a nephew of this chief, who it appears was for- 
merly ‘ wreck master ’ at eape Henry. It is needless for me 
to say, Sire, that this project should be encouraged. With 
the Buccaneers as allies,, France can get a foothold in Cen- 
tral America — to say nothing of the gold of Spanish cities 


534 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


and galleons. The Spanish government has offered a re- 
ward of four millions of dollars for the apprehension and 
delivery of this Montbars, his nephew, and two other Buc- 
caneer chiefs. When these Buccaneer chiefs cease to be 
useful allies, which must he when their loork is done, and 
done well, then — as prisoners in the hands of France — ^they 
can be exchanged for the Spanish half of San Domingo. 
The island of San Domingo is continental in size — ^it can be 
a French kingdom. 

“ France, Sire, is continental and not insidar in her policy, 
and so long as the English power exhausts itself here in 
Ireland in a contest between two English kings, the conti- 
nental policy of France expands in Europe and America. 
Let me remind you. Sire, that there is now a French empire, 
in embryo, in America, advancing westward from the mouth 
of the Saint Lawrence along the banks of vast inland sea 
lakes until it meets another French empire ascending the 
Mississippi from New Orleans, to insulate, and I may say 
isolate, the English colonies on the Atlantic coast; and 
after isolation there can be division. And apropos of the 
same, the English Catholics of Maryland must be relieved. 
The revolutionary parliament of England, more aggressive 
than their revolutionary king, have laid a heavy sequestra- 
tion fine on all land patents held by the Catholic Jacobites 
of Maryland who became obnoxious to Coade and his party. 
It amounts, if not paid, to confiscation, affording a fair op- 
portunity to the agrarian carbonari of that province to 
divide the manor lands among themselves. For that pur- 
pose we have an excellent and safe disbursing agent in the 
Jew, Cancella, of Saint Mary’s. Excellent and safe is this 
Jew, Sire, because the trunk of which he is a branch has its 
root in Paris. Besides he is the well paid guardian of an 
English girl whose birth and parentage would make his 
ward dangerous or lucky to her custodian, according to the 
political exigencies of the case. 

“ In conclusion, Sire, king James, to be successful must be 


THE POSTSCRIPT. 


535 


silent and invisible to the Irish subjects. He has been seen 
and heard too often I fear already. His ridiculous ‘ prome- 
nade militaire’ north, and his inglorious flight south, have 
disenchanted the Irish kernes of their political Messiah, in 
Tv^hom they were to see the ‘ warrior chief ’ their legendary 
love has so long foretold, the prophet, priest and king, at 
whose coming Ireland was to become the home of her chil- 
dren. 

“ 1 write in prayer, may God and all the saints take you 
into their holy keeping, for France — and for 

“ D’Avaux. 

Dublin, Dec. 31, 1689.” 

When the king read the words of that postscript, he tore 
it off and burnt it ; and then he looted at Madame de Main- 
tenon, who had read them also over his shoulder, and smiled 
as Louis only could do. 

And Madame, pushing the long hyacinthine curls from 
his royal cheek, kissed him with tears in her eyes, as Madame 
de Maintenon only could do. “ Louis,” said she, you are 
the elite of Almighty God on earth, for He has given you 
the most noble and devoted of servants. V^lve la France — 
vive Louis Quatorze I 


53G 


THE BUCCANEERS. 


CHAPTER LIX. 

ANOTHER APOSTILLE. 

As THE curtain descends on the political stage in Europe, 
one can glance across the Atlantic ocean and see another 
man, of a different mould and temperament, in Maryland, 
silently foregathering certain events and objects, en rapport 
:\vith the dispatch of the count d’Avaux from Dublin. 

The last hour of the last day of 1689 was closing in som- 
bre gloom, in the city of Saint Mary’s. 

Dark masses of clouds were rolling through space, hasten- 
ing on the night ere the sun had gone down, and shedding 
showers of countless millions of snow-flakes falling slug- 
gishly and noiselessly through the dark atmosphere. All 
was silent and still in the little city, which seemed to have 
gone to rest. The avenue was deserted, lights from cheer- 
ful firesides gleamed faintly through the opaque and snow 
encrusted windows. There was no boisterous mirth in the 
tap-room of the Crown and Mitre. Ships lay in the harbor 
with sails furled, clewed, and lashed to the spars, hatches 
closed, and deserted decks, with the sturdy air of sej^ trav- 
elers laying up for a snug time until the spring. 

Among them lay that same “ Royal Mary.” She had come 
to port a week previous, discharged her cargo and laid up 
for the winter’s ice fo come and go ere she sailed again. 
The news she had brought across the ocean had been read 
and digested by the metropolitans without adding anything 
to their stock of political wisdom, beyond a mere enu- 
meration of accomplished facts — a synopsis of political data 
which did not reveal to the eyes of the uninitiated the in- 
visible treason which underlay the struggle between human 
rights and absolutism in this day of 1689, as it did one 
century previous when that silent old man, called Philip II., 


ANOTHER APOSTILLE. 


537 


sat in Ills cell in the escurial and blotted out nations from a 
map of the world as he did superfluous words from a dis- 
patch. 

Those who read the consecutive files of the London Ga- 
zette^ as they were brought to port, learned from their col- 
umns in chronological order that the convention of the 
estates of England which proclaimed William and Mary king 
and queen of England, had become the first parliament of 
William III. and had, with slight intermissions, sat the entire 
year and passed many acts, which another so-called parlia- 
ment at Dublin called treason to James II., Avho held Ire- 
land as securely as William III. seemed to hold England. 

If James had lost the battle of Newton Butler in Ireland 
he had won that of Kilicrankio in Scotland. So far nothing 
was decided in the field ; but much legislation w'as done in 
London and Dublin to change the civil, political and ecclesi- 
astical polity of the realm according to the issue of the 
struggle. All this they saw, but what they did not see was 
the artistic grouping of the characters as the curtain fell on 
the political stage of 1689. That stage was Ireland, and 
they would have seen in the foreground near the foot-lights, 
James II. and William III., spear in hand, facing each other. 

In the background, dimly visible, stood a group of sun- 
burnt, long-haired men in loose, wide, short trousers, with 
red caps on their heads, cutlasses by their sides and hands 
on their hilts. 

In the rear of James, behind the scenes, at the prompter’s 
desk, sits Louis XIV. of France — grand and magnificent. 
Over him leans a thin-visaged woman. They are reading — 
and smiling as they read — the dispatches from Dublin, from 
Dome and from Constantinople ; and then they whisper to 
each other. How long can they prolong the overture and 
keep the actors on the stage en tableau ? 

In the rear of William, behind the scene, at the left en- 
trance sits a conclave of mitred bishops and starred oflicials 
bargaining in low whispers for a “ Protestant Substitute.” 


538 


TRE BRCGANEER8. 


The tap-room of the Crown and Mitre was deserted, but 
not that snug, cosy, private parlor. In that sanctum of mine 
landlord there was a man sitting at a table crowned by a 
smoking bowl of tiff, and who had sat there before — twelve 
months to-day — in company with three others. But this 
time he was alone, and after taking a mug of tiff began 
wu-iting a letter to John Leisler in USTew York. After writ- 
ing about an hour he lay down his pen, took another mug 
and read what he had written. 

It ran thus ; 

“ Saint Mary’s, I > ec . 31, 1689. 

“ Dearly Beloved : — Since last we met I have done 
much, seen much, suffered much, traveled far. So far have 
got little thanks and less money for my pains and toils, 
nevertheless we have adhered to the good old adage of do- 
ing one thing at a time and that thing well. Our first task 
was to establish the supremacy of a Protestant king and 
church in this colony, and it has been thoroughly done, so 
far as the “ Protestant Association ” is a party. On the fifth, 
sixth and seventh days of August last, a convention of the 
freemen of this province met — in consideration of the ways 
and means to defend the liberties and religion of the same — 
and., after formally deposing the Papistical proprietary gov- 
ernment here and petitioning the king and parliament of Eng- 
land to take jurisdiction in all matters colonial, committed 
the affairs of the i)rovince to a committee of ‘‘ Public Safety ” 
consisting of John Coade, Josiah Fendall, Nathaniel Black- 
istone, Francis Nicholson, John Harrington and Kenelm 
Chiseldine — just three men too many to do the work of the 
Lord, after I had opened the Avay. 

“It is the misfortune of all revolutions in English history 
having for their object the rights of freemen, to have in 
their ranks a certain alloy of conservatism Avhich halts at 
half-way measures and hinders the Avork of the gospel after 
the first and most costly step has been taken. Thus it was 
with us. This conservative element not only put in the 


ANOTHER APOSTILLE, 


539 

committee three too many, but the very two, who of all 
others should not have been there ; first of all, old Fendall 
TTho hates me, as all dotards with whom the sun of life is 
stationary for a moment ere it sets, usually hate their more 
active and enterprising brethren in the same cause. Besides, 
this old' fool connects my march on Saint Mary’s last August 
with the ‘ abduction,’ as he calls it, of his daughter Ruth. 
It seems the light fantastic airs of Mr. Philip Calvert turned 
Ruth’s lighter head and, won her softer heart. 

“ In the dim twilight of the 5th of August, while papa was 
gone and the city in commotion, this pair of doves were 
winging their way to Saint George’s island — where Calvert 
has a luxurious retreat which he calls a ^ lodge ’ — when a 
random shot fired by a random gunner from the fort in a 
mere random display of military foolery, swamped the yacht 
and drowned all who were in it except Calvert himself, 
who only lost an arm. But Coade of course got the credit 
of the transanction. 

“After Fendall come both of those high churchmen, 
Nathaniel Blackistone and Sir Francis Nicholson, who are 
terribly affronted because they were not leaders in a revo- 
lution which had proved a success up to the time tlrey be- 
came parties to it. Thus the committee split at the very first 
meeting, on my motion to levy a confiscation tax upon Jews 
and Palmists to defray the expenses of the revolution. Our 
men have not been paid. Blackistone argued that this was a 
‘ retrospective penal act which encroached upon the powers 
of parliament.’ Fendall and Nicholson sided with him. 
After several futile attempts, finding our sessions a nullity, 
we agreed upon a truce — ^not to meet again until the first 
day of January, 1690, which is to-morrow. The king’s 
answer to the petition and proceedings of the convention 
have already reached the province. Captain Hart, the envoy, 
returned a few days ago in the ‘ Royal Mary,’ with the sealed 
papers, which will be formally opened to-morrow in the 
privy council chamber and the contents made known. 


540 


THE BVGGANEERS. 


It 13 needless to say that our metropolitans here are in a 
fidgety state of anxiety to know whom his majesty has ap- 
pointed first ‘ Royal Governor of Maryland ; ’ and if I, John 
Coade, can only walk out of the council chamber to-morrow 
the first governor of Maryland, appointed by the king of 
England, I would be willing to cut off twenty, years from 
the latter end of my life — even if those twenty should in- 
clude the second hour of my triumph — and my heart swells 
with hope. My claims, I know, have been fairly stated to 
his majesty by the count Sandoval to whom I had pre- 
viously rendered important services. In this case, and more 
particularly if all has been well with you, there will be no 
difficulty in giving captain Kidd suitable means and power 
to carry out the late act of parliament for the suppressioji 
of piracy and smuggling in the American ports. 

“ I employed the ‘ vacation ’ in traveling and looking after 
our maritime affairs. You must known that the count vis- 
ited us last June. He was prospecting our line of sea-board 
ports to ascertain the haunts of those Buccaneer chiefs for 
whose capture Spain offers such noble rewards. There is 
another name added to the prize list — that of Ismail Mal- 
colm — that very barbaric looking viking who was wreck- 
master at cape Henry, and who turns out to be the nephew 
of Montbars, the Buccaneer chief. By this uncle and this 
nephew count Sandoval and his daughter were rescued from 
shipwreck on the night of that fearful storm last June. I 
returned the count’s visit — found him at Granada. The 
count unfolded his views; I sketched my ways and means. 

‘‘The count’s daughter, Isabel Sandoval, is the most 
superb looking woman I ever saw. She has two lovers, 
both Buccaneer paladins. Laurent, whom she loves and he 
loves not, and Ismail Malcolm, who loves her and she loves 
not — but both to be retained until one is secured. Well, 
Bellisima Seiiora, gives me two letters, one to each of her 
lovers; but Malcolm’s not to be delivered if Laurent is 
repentant. I entered the lion’s den. I found Laurent at 


ANOTHER APOSTILLE. 


541 


Tortuga, taking an evening promenade. I extracted the 
teeth from this sea shark by extracting a promise on his 
‘honor’ of safe conduct, upon mentioning my name and 
errand. He was struck with a very vivid recollection of my 
antecedents — he claimed me as an ‘ erring brother,’ a ‘ lapsed 
Buccaneer ’ fallen from ‘ grace.’ He was thoroughly posted 
in ‘our cabinet’ difficulties. I gave him Isabel’s letter; he 
tore it in jDieces, in a fit of honest indignation upon being 
reminded of one of his amours whom he w^as accustomed to 
ignore when out of sight. He then extracted from me the 
letter addressed to Malcolm, which he promised on his 
‘ honor ’ to deliver ; he then- escorted me to my canoe and 
I put as much time and space between me and him as wind 
and water would allow in two hours’ sail before a fair breeze. 
I felt exceedingly happy as the receding shore grew dim in 
the distance ; but scarcely had I put my foot on the deck of 
the lugger, which was lying to for me, when Laurent over- 
hauled us in a twenty-oared piroque. . He had become 
repentant and, on sober second thought, determined to visit 
Isabel at Granada — he required my services as a pilot. 
Money I should have and a plenty of it if I complied with a 
good grace, and death if I refused. It is needless to say 
which of the two alternatives I chose. 

“ The next day the Buccaneer frigate, ‘ La Serpente,’ sailed 
for Granada with captain Laurent, Malcolm, who must see 
his Isabel, Hativa, who must follow her Malcolm, J ohn Coade, 
who must follow his fortunes, and eighty picked men, on 
board. 

“ The taking and sacking of Granada and the defeat of 
the Spanish galleons by Laurent in the Caribbean sea you 
have read about ; but you have not read certain intermedi- 
ary items which are as follows : 

“ Laurent, true to his word, paid and released me on 
entering the city. I then made the best of my way to port 
Cartago about twenty miles below the mouth of the San 
Juan river and made known to the port admiral there — admi- 


542 


THE BUGGANEEIIS. 


ral — what had transpired at Granada. The admiral, 

Avith Castilian grandiloquence, thanked and promised me 
one-tenth of the spoil, and then, can it be believed? — 
Avasted four precious hours at a fandango and sailed to reach 
the mouth of the San Juan river just in time to see the 
Buccaneer frigate nearly hull down at sea. He j^ut chase 
Avith a strong fair Avind and overhauled the Buccaneer tack- 
ing to the Avindward, loaded to the bends Avith the spoils of 
Granada With all these circumstances in his favor, the 
tAvo Spanish galleons — carrying 1,000 men each — were de- 
feated and the admiral and vice-admiral returned to Cartago 
Avith one galleon crippled and dismasted and the other Avith- 
out having fired a shot — to curse me as the sole author of 
their disgrace. 

‘‘ I then Avent to Carthagena, Avhither the count Sandoval 
had gone after I had left for Tortuga. Upon learning these 
facts he, in his ofiicial capacity, as viceroy of Spain, ordered 
the Spanish admiral and vice-admiral home for trial. 

He then gave me a letter for Sehor Don B-onquillo, the 
Spanish ambassador at London, in Avhich he set forth at 
length my claims and services and enjoined on the legation 
to make them knoAvn to king William III. Sefior Don 
Konquillo did as ho Avas desired to do, and his majesty, 
through lord Nottingham, returned a gracious answer. 

‘ On this rock I build my church political.’ But while in 
London aAvaiting this gracious answer I learned that they 
have ‘cabinet difficulties’ at Westminster as Avell as in this 
good city of St. Mary’s. I attended, by invitation, a meet- 
ing in that historic vault of ‘ Lady Place.’ I was led in, 
blindfold as my conductor thought^ to answer many interroga- 
tories about Monmouth’s daughter, but I saio my examiners ; 
and I have assessed the value political of ‘ Nativa del Eoco.’ 
When I left the English parliament Avas bloAving the sec- 
tarian bellows to kindle to a white heat the sectarian 
V fires that lighted William of Orange to the throne, but Avhich 
he as Idny William is trying to smoulder. He has turned 


ANOTIIEU APOSTILLE. 


543 


conservative and we may have a third revolution or a second 
restoration. Utrhique paratus. Be that as it may, the acts 
of parliament are for us poor mortals the supreme law of the 
land. Yive la parliament.^ for it has made all high church 
tories, Jacobites. We have important intelligence under 
that head; as soon as parliament adjourns and the king sets 
out for Ireland, the colonial Jacobites are to hold a colonial 
convention — secret of course — to prepare ways and means 
to reestablish the sovereignty of James II. in the American 
colonies {in case the English army is defeated in Ireland) on 
the 1st day of May, 1G90, in St. Mary’s, but what particular 
locality therein I cannot say. Will learn in time, and if the 
Buccaneer chiefs attend this convention, the information is 
very valuable. The apparent submission of the proprietary 
party here is a delusion. ‘Our great men’ and yours are 
silently and secretly preparing for a coup de main ; they are 
keenly watching the under current of events in England and 
awaiting the issue of the campaign in Ireland. Our am- 
phibious politicians both here and there will fall ‘right 
side up,’ let the political wheel turn as it may. So much 
for conservatism which dams the current and makes two 
revolutions necessary when one would have been amply 
sufficient. 

“ If I could have had my own way here last August this 
province would have paid us handsomely for our services, 
and parliament would have acquiesced in the measures we • 
had taken rather than have been bored with ‘ remonstrances 
and protests’ and other superfluous legislation about us. 
At a time like this a self-sustaining colony is a pleasing thing 
to the authorities over the water, and many irregularities in 
colonial afiairs would be connived at providing they relieved 
an English parliament of superfluous labor and their trea- 
sury of ill-timed depletion. They Avill be glad to let us 
alone until we are rich enough to pay their officials high 
salaries for the pleasing task of governing us. To-morrow 
the long agony will be over. The king’s answer will be 


544 


THE B UCCANEER8. 


unsealed, and then I will add a few words, in a postscript, of 
what remains to be told. Fraternally yours, 

‘‘ JOKK CoABE.” 

Leaving Coade to finish his bowl of tiff before the FTev/- 
Year dawned, we enter the house of Josiah Fendall. Wo 
find him in that same library room as we have done afore- 
times ; sad, solitary and alone he sat in that same old oak 
chair at that same quaint-looking table on which lay his 
great folio Bible, opened at the book of Job, which he had 
been reading. 

He closed it aftei; pondering long over that sublime ex- 
hortation, “ The Lord hath given and the Lord hath taken ; 
blessed be the name of the Lord.” 

After a pause, he continued the train of ideas which it 
suggested, in the words, “How long, oh Lord, must I await 
thy coming to the bleeding heart where crushed affections 
dwell ? The king of terrors and a mightier King come like 
a friend to relieve from all pain. One by one every star has 
fallen that beamed for me ; one by one every light has gone 
out on my hearth ; one by one every tie that binds me to 
earth has been broken. Shall I find the lost, there in that 
kingdom of the blessed — those loved ones of earth — poor 
erring children of time ? As the crucified on Calvary to the 
repentant thief free pardon and absolution gave, so may it 
be with them.” 

The door opened softly and a young man entered. His 
features were regular, but unintellectual, his forehead low 
and receding, cheeks florid and full, his lips large, red and 
pouting ; his blue eyes had a dull and blase expression, and 
his auburn hair fell in crisp curls around his short, thick 
neck. 

“I have sent for you, William,” said the old man, extend- 
ing a package with a broken seal, “ to present to you this 
commission of cai^taln in one of the regiments now in the 
field in Ireland, under the command of marshal Schomberg, 
wliich I received by the ' Royal Mary.’ I sought it as a 


ANOTHER APOSTILLE. 


545 


personal j(avor to myself from his majesty. From the king 
I concealed nothing but the hope that you might fill a 
soldier’s grave — though it might he a — drunkard’s.” 

A cynical smile curled the young man’s lips with the un- 
uttered sarcastic expression, “ Much obliged.” 

“ It is needless for me to say,” continued the old man, 
‘Hhat you should join your regiment without delay. Your 
commission gives you free transportation in any English 
ship leaving any of the colonial ports for any port in Eng- 
land. Many a noble youth in England or in these colonies 
would be glad of such an opportunity to enter the king’s 
service. Let me urge upon you an immediate departure for 
the first port in England by the first ship ready to sail from 
ISTewbern, where there is no ice blockade. Will you not 
go,” continued the old man imploringly, “to take your place 
among the chivalry of old England in the great battle of 
Armageddon ? Let the ocean roll between you and your old 
associates, who have misled your youth and corrupted your 
heart, whose vices and whose follies you have aped with* 
inadequate means, and now the great obstacle to reform is 
removed.” 

“ I v,dll leave to-morrow at dawn,” said the young man, 
with a furtive glance and a smile, as if a bright idea had 
struck him, “if I have the money necessary for my outfit.” 

“Your regiment is ’a Scotch regiment of Highlanders, 
commanded by James Douglas? who wear the tartaa, as their 
ancestors and mine have done in many a field in Scotland’s 
history, and your heaviest outlay will be for arms. In that 
case one hundred guineas are amply sufficient, but neverthe- 
less I will give you two hundred.” 

Here the old man arose and went to an antique looking 
secretary, unlocked a drawer and took therefrom a small 
sack of coin, which he gave to his nephew. He then took 
down from the wall a Scottish claymore with a plain but 
bright silver scabbard and, drawing the blade, saw with 
a smile not a spot or stain on the glittering steel. 


546 


THE B UGGANEER8. 


“ This sword,” continued the uncle, “ has come down to 
me through a long line of warrior sires. I have leant upon 
it through many a long and weary march, -through the un- 
trodden wilderness of these infant colonies — the cradles of 
great empires. It is my last gift to the last of my name and 
race. May God bless it in your hands. Take the money 
and the sword, and flee this fatal spot, where your antece- 
dents must ever render you unhappy, and return no more. 
Die at least with honor if you cannot live without dis- 
honor.” 

At this moment the great bell of the State House began 
to toll the last second of the last minute of the last hour of 
the last day of 1689. 

“Let us pray,” said the old man. “Pray with me; if it 
be your first, it may be your last.” 

In the interior of another house others were watching the 
old year out, to welcome in the new v/ith prayer. 

In the library of chancellor Blackistone, a liale old man, 
with a high forehead, bald head, in black velvet, was reading 
a file of the 'London Gaz'ette^ by the light of two huge wax 
candles in two quaint and massive silver candlesticks. That 
paper contained a list of all the acts passed by the first par- 
liament of William and Mary up to the first day of Decem- 
ber, 1689. Sitting upon an ottoman at the foot of a harp of 
a huge carved frame, peculiar to the times, was a young 
lady of some twenty summers. She v/as below the medium 
height; her face was more intellectual than beautiful; her 
mouth, throat, chest, and all the organs of the voice were 
largely developed, and with a tact known only to a woman, 
her dark brown hair was arranged in short curls, to soften 
as well as shade the masculine prominence of her brow. 
Such was Laura Blackistone, daughter and only child of 
Nathaniel Blackistone, chancellor and subsequently governor 
of the province of Maryland. Her father, after reading in 
silence a synopsis of the acts of parliament up to the time 
the ship sailed, came to one on Maryland colonial affairs, 


ANOTHER APOSTILLE. 


547 


which he read aloud. It was a penal act of fines and jienal- 
ties against certain Papists and Jacobites who had ‘Sunder- 
ed the work of the gospel ” in Maryland. It confiscated the 
lands, goods, chattels and hereditaments of Col. Leonard 
Calvert Cornwaley, an officer of king James, in command of 
fort St. Inigoes, on the 6th of August, 1688, and the act to 
go into operation on or before the 1st day of January, 1690, 
and fined John Chesley of Parkton, 1,000 guineas, to be paid 
on or before the 1st day of May, 1690. 

At the sound of Cornwaley’ s name Laura Blackistone 
sprang to her feet and listened with suspended breath, as 
her father in his clear and distinct tone recited the formal 
verbiage of the act. 

“That act,” exclaimed Laura, with vehemence, “is a pre- 
mium for cowardice. The two men, and the only two in 
this province, to whom a Poman senate would have voted 
a civic crown or laurel wreath are beggared, and for what ? 
Cornwaley heroically defended his post against those who 
had no right to demand its surrender, and John Chesley 
rescued a j^oor, defenceless girl from the fangs of wretches 
who knew not the name of mercy. Those deeds might 
have saved even a JPapist or Jacohiie from parliamentary 
vengeance — and the king, what does ho do ? Gives his assent 
to those cruel and vindictive acts of laglslation.” 

“The king, my daughter,” replied her father, with a sigh, 
“ cannot do otherwise at present^ whatever he may be in- 
clined to do or may do before the acts go into operation. 
The anti-papistical acts of the English parliament are retalia- 
tory — they are offsets to the remorseless expatriation of the 
Protestant English settlers in Ireland by the parliament of 
James Stuart, now sitting in Dublin. Any act of grace 
from William III. to the conservatives or adherents to James 
at this time would seriously compromise a king, wffiom an 
anti-papistical zeal has elevated to the throne of England, 
He must be victorious over all enemies, foreign and domes- 
tic, before he can be gracious to those whom a revolution 


548 


THE BTrCCANEERS. 


has victimized; then, hut not till then, can the palliating 
circumstances he safely made known to his majesty and the 
dispensing power of the crown sought in their hehalf ” 

“ I will do it now — I will not wait until the political tide 
turns an act of justice into a stroke of policy, I am a wo- 
man, and a woman can ask of her king, at any time, an act of 
mercy. I will appeal to the queen. She is a woman, a gen- 
tle, .kind woman, who will feel for one who loves like her- 
self” 

^‘Ah — ^loves — like herself,” said the father, eyeing the 
speaker archly. “Pray, daughter of our house, how does 
our sovereign lady Mary love ? ” 

“ I can only answer that,” replied Laura, blushing at her 
vehemence, “hy stating whom she loves. She loves one 
cold, stern and unfaltering in his duties to his God and to 
his people — a son of that nohle race who for centuries toiled 
to win their homes, inch hy inch, from the ocean, and for 
eighty years defended their hearths and their altars from a 
mightier power than Rome of the Caesars and a darker 
evil than the ocean storm; one whose silence is eloquence 
and whose acts are hut the pulsations of a nohle and loyal 
heart.” 

“ A very good portrait of a king — and queen Mary loves 
her hushandf replied chancellor Blackistone, with a slightly 
sarcastic emphasis on the words “king,” and “husband;” 
“hut permit me to tell you what I was about to do when 
you so dramatically snaj^ped the thread of my ideas, — that 
the difficulty in Cornwaley’s case is not the defence hut the 
destruction of fort Saint Inigoes. So far as Col. Cornwaley 
refused to surrender the fort on demand to the detachment 
sent hy Coade, he, as an officer, holding his commission 
from James II., did but the duty of a brave soldier; hut 
there is a point beyond which loyalty and valor cease to he 
virtues. What are the facts of the case ? Cornwaley or- 
dered his command to open fire upon the detachment who 
demanded the surrender, not only in the name of William 


ANOTHER APOSTILLE. 


549 


and Mary, but under the terms of capitulation signed by 
Col. Digges at Saint Mary’s. Cornwaley’s men not only re- 
fused to obey his orders, but they themselves pi'oclaimed 
William and Mary and put their commander a prisoner in 
the powder vault. Rather a dangerous prison for such in- 
flammable valor, I admit; but while the mutineers were 
opening the gates to the assailants, Cornwaley fired a pow- 
der train, blew up the fort over his own head and under the 
feet of those just entering, and the garrison — when the fort 
had virtually passed from James to William, in a strict mili- 
tary and political sense, the day previous by Col. Digges’ 
surrender. 

‘‘ All within and about the fort perished in the explosion 
except Col. Cornwaley himself, who it seems lay flat on the 
floor of the ground arch leading to the vault, while the ex- 
plosion spent its force upward from the centre of its own 
crater. This, my daughter, was neither valor or loyalty. 
He had done all that individual man could do in the case, 
even admitting the force of his declaration ‘ that he admit- 
ted no coward’s surrender nor obeyed any traitor’s orders.’ 
It was a God-defying, humanity-scorning act of reckless 
ferocity which destroyed life without benefitting any cause 
-whatever. Under the inspiration of Belial and' the temper- 
ament of Moloch, which they have inherited from their 
mother’s family, the Sandovals of Spain, a proud and haughty 
race, who have been to the Spanish monarchy what the Bor- 
gias have been to the Papacy — an act, I say, which puts his 
name upon the roll of those Baltasar Gerards, those 
Jacques Clements — a class of assassins whose one idea, 
crime, dates the political doom of their employers. From 
the murder of William of Orange, for gold from Philip II., 
dates the decadence of Spain. The blood on the assassin’s 
hand outraged the moral power of Christendom — a power 
not circumscribed by churches and creeds. 

“ It was this that confiscated Cornwaley’s property. In a 
case where a military court would have hung him like a 


550 


THE DUGGANEERS. 


dog, let not your sympathies outrun your discretion. La- 
dies’ sympathy for valor fallen in the unequal struggle of 
‘right against might,’ have a tendency to soften the brain 
as well as the heart, especially if the hero is beautiful, bravo 
and strong. I admit that Col. Cornwaley has a rare com- 
bination of physical graces, but his temperament is Spanish — 
not English — and like his race he is as bigoted in religion as 
he is absolute in politics. Can you, my daughter, can you 
guarantee the loyalty of a man whose treason to a Protes- 
tant king would be canonized by his church — whose treason 
to one sovereign would only be equaled by treachery to 
the other ? ” 

“ I speak as I feel — ^here at least if not elsewhere,” replied 
Laura, in a calmer tone, like a woman in the sanctuary of her 
fireside, inspired by the sympathies natural to her sex and 
not by the sublime doctrines of Machiavelli, or the cold 
policy of statesmen. “ Must political revolutions ever be 
retaliatory in their legislation ? Can they not reconstruct 
without destruction? Useless severity and untimely rigor 
to punish valor, grandly, and I may say terribly, displayed 
on the losing side of a political contest, seems to me a war 
against all that is noble in history without adding one single 
item to the catalogue of human virtues or one step to human 
progress.” 

“ Happily, my daughter,” said her father with a quiet 
smile, “for human progress revolutions confine each genera- 
tion to its own appropriate share of the work. As the 
course of a river is determined by two points — its source 
and its mouth — so the true character of a revolution in its 
course through human annals is ascertained mathematically 
and demonstratively by what it sought and what it accom- 
plished. The old men of 1640 saw but a ‘charter of human 
liberties ’ — they saw not the civil war, the trial and death of 
Charles I., the anarchy of the Republic, the despotism of 
Cromwell, the demoralization, social and national, of the 
Restoration, to obtain in the present generation, a ‘ Bill of 
Rights,’ under William III. 


ANOTHER APOSTILLE. 


551 


“ Had the insurgents of Ghent seen the horrors and suffer- 
ings of eighty years’ war, the synod of Hort would have 
never proclaimed those articles of faith upon which the 
fabric of civil and religious freedom now rests; but be that 
as it may. ^Let us come to the point. Can you, daughter 
of mine, go to the king and tell him, on your honor and your 
oath, that if he graciously restores this hero of yours and his 
forfeited estates, that he, the said Leonard Calvert Corn- 
waley, will true allegiance bear to the king and parliament 
of England, and that he forsakes without mental reservation 
or equivocation the service of Jam'is Stuart and of France — ■ 
for the two are one and inseparable ? Let me tell you 
it was not the religion of James Stuart that alienated the 
loyal gentry of England, but it was that accursed subsidiary 
alliance and amalgamation of English interests with French 
l^olicy — that hereditary folly of the Stuarts. But for France, 
Mary, queen of Scots, would have lived and died in Holy 
Rood palace; Charles 1. would never have ascended the 
scaffold ; Charles II. would never have received French gold 
to betray his people; and James II. would never have been 
the assassin of his subjects. Can you guarantee, I say, for 
that man to William III., if the king’s prerogative inter- 
venes to save him from the operation of an act of parliament 
passed without a dissenting voice ? It is needless to say that 
his loyalty to the pardoning power must become plain, positive 
and unquestioned before it can be exercised in his behalf.” 

Laura pressed her hands upon her heart, her lips parted 
with an effort to speak, but the words she would have ut- 
tered came not. 

At that moment the great bell on the State House began 
to toll. The last second of 1689 was passing away. 

She turned with a grateful smile to her harp. Her father 
folded and put by the papers and then opened the great 
folio Bible. The Hew Year found the daughter seated at 
her harp, chanting in a grand, sweet feminine voice, more 
suited to a cathedral church, one of the sublime anthems of 
the English liturgy. 








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